


Scrub the dirt from your expectations

by Rainbow_Sprinkles



Series: Tend to your memories [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And more hugs, Canon-Compliant, Chara Is Their Own Warning, Domestic elements, Everybody still needs therapy, Frisk and Chara share a body, Gen, Heavy discussions of past abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lots of sad feelings, Mental Illness, Non-Binary Chara, Non-Binary Frisk, Post-Pacifist, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Varying POV, and anger, and its impact, but I'm a huge sucker for happy endings, for a little while, physical illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-23 15:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9663878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Sprinkles/pseuds/Rainbow_Sprinkles
Summary: The puzzles are definitely the best part. There is something satisfying about working a problem that has an obvious method with one solution and getting it right. It would be nice if the rest of the world was that way, too.Chara thinks dead kids should stay dead. Frisk disagrees.





	1. Bravery: the choice and willingness to face potential pain or danger despite fear.

**Author's Note:**

> This should only be read after reading [This time make your purpose.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8243422/chapters/18890107) You can probably predict this one beginning to end from the tags, summary, and title alone.
> 
> Please read the tags, especially those concerning past abuse. There aren't details, but there aren't implications, either; things are outright stated. This is the main reason why I rated this mature.
> 
> There is some sexual groping, but no explicit rumpus-humpus.

In retrospect, Frisk should have expected this.

But they were _so excited_. So excited to see Chara, so excited they could actually hug them – but Chara looked at their hands, shocked, terrified, and brought their hands to their body and realized yes, their body was real, they were corporeal, they were no longer bound to Frisk—

Chara shrieked and punched Frisk right in the face. Then proceeded to scream at them. It was mostly obscenities, names, with the recurring thread of _I didn’t want this and you knew that, why did you do this_ and Frisk, like an idiot, couldn’t stop smiling the whole time.

As with Asriel, Chara’s magical rebirth didn’t come with clothes. Frisk came prepared. Chara curses and stomps about for a solid four minutes. Frisk is still smiling even though their eyes are watering from the broken nose. Chara kicked them, too, but the bruise on their shin is nothing compared to their nose.

Chara only stops when they examine their arms. Then Frisk sees a flicker of something other than rage across their face before it goes totally blank. Frisk stops smiling.

Even with their pale skin, Frisk can still see the white scars all over their arms and thighs. “Chara,” they say, and when wide red eyes turn to them, they offer the other human their backpack. They don’t get up from where they are seated. They’re a little worried they will pass out.

Chara snaps out of their trance, frowns, and takes it. They set out the clothes Frisk packed, but they keep rummaging until they find the snack Toriel insists her children always keep with them. A cupcake in a container, this time. Chara offers it to Frisk, who makes no move to take it.

“Take it, idiot,” Chara says flatly.

Frisk pulls their bloody sleeve away from their nose for a moment to check. It’s still bleeding, but it has slowed to a trickle. “Wanted to save it for you,” they reply, sounding grossly stuffed up. “Just in case this…”

Just in case the new body starts to fail. Chara shoves the container into Frisk’s chest. “Eat it,” they order.

As Frisk’s hands try for the container lid, Chara abruptly leans over them (still naked, it should be noted), grabs Frisk’s nose and face, and abruptly jerks their nose back into alignment.

Frisk’s vision goes white for a second and the pain steals their breath away. They let out a screamy, yelpy noise and drop the container so their hands can hover in front of their face after Chara pulls away. Tears stream from their eyes as they try not to breathe too hard.

“That _hurt_ ,” they whine at Chara.

Chara finally turns to get dressed. “Didn’t want it to heal crooked,” they grunt in explanation. They hold up the clothes, turning to Frisk. “Are these _Isla’s_?”

Frisk’s whole face hurts. They try not to move it too much as they talk. “Yeah. She’s the smallest person I know who it wouldn’t be weird to steal clothes from. I figured you’d come back ten years old.”

“Oh no, Frisk, it’s still fucking _weird_. You took her _underwear_ , you pervert.”

They work the container open and pull out the cupcake. They break a very small piece off because there is no way they are opening their mouth to bite into it. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I wanted you to have the option. And everything’s clean, Isla’s a clean freak.”

They can tell Chara doesn’t really mean any of the nasty things they said. They just needed to vent. It… it’s different, obviously. They can’t catch pieces of Chara’s thoughts anymore, but they can sense that Chara is utterly terrified and their bravado is fake. They know they feel bad about breaking Frisk’s nose, but not kicking them in the shin.

Chara begins to get dressed. There may be a connection between their souls. It doesn’t seem implausible. They will have to have Alphys check it out when they get home.

Frisk manages to swallow half the cupcake by breaking it apart. It doesn’t completely heal their nose, but the bleeding finally stops and the pain becomes more bearable. Their eyes stop watering like crazy. They stand up to test their balance. They feel fine.

Chara came back as they died, which makes them a too-skinny ten-year-old. Frisk turned fourteen in June and the size difference between them shocks them even though they should have expected it. Frisk has eight or nine inches and at least forty pounds on Chara. It’s weird. They have always thought of them as the same size.

Isla is smaller than Frisk, but Chara is still swimming in fabric. They cross their arms. “The fuck are you staring at?” they demand.

“You’re so _little_ ,” comes out of Frisk’s mouth.

Chara scowls. “I’ll kick your ass, Frisk.”

“You kind of already did. Can I hug you now?”

“No. I can’t – a full-on hug would be too much right now.”

“Oh.” That’s going to be new. Frisk will just have to remember to ask and keep asking, every time. “We have to go back now, Chara.”

“I – know.” Suddenly their voice doesn’t sound so angry.

“Everyone’s already going to be worried. It’s been almost two hours since I left. They’ll have noticed by now that I’m gone. So they’ll already be high-strung, and then they’ll see you.”

Chara presses closed fists against their head, just above their ears. “Damnit, Frisk. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here like this. I—” they pull their left fist back a few inches and hit themself in the head. It’s not quite hard enough to warrant Frisk’s worrying, but they worry anyway.

But when Chara opens their eyes, they are clear. “I’m not parasitizing you anymore.”

“You never were,” Frisk is quick to assure them. “I just wanted you to be able to have your own life. I know, given the option, you wouldn’t choose to do a lot of the things I do.”

Chara ignores them. “Like this, I could… I could protect monsters from humans. I could take a hit that would kill one of them.”

Frisk frowns. “That’s not your purpose. I didn’t – you’re not here just so you can sacrifice yourself again.”

Chara is silent for a long while. They drop their arms, then reach out with their right. Frisk has to stop themself from moving too quickly – they don’t want to scare Chara – but they step forward and take the other human’s hand. Chara inhales sharply through their nose, but doesn’t pull away.

Slowly, slowly, Frisk makes their way to Chara’s side, where they can hold hands naturally. Once again, they are struck by how _small_ Chara’s hand is in theirs.

“Don’t let anyone touch me,” Chara finally says, voice small. “I don’t think I can handle it right now.”

“Okay,” Frisk agrees.

“And – if they hate me—”

“They won’t.”

“They _should_. I’m…”

Their voice dies, before they can admit to their fear. “I know,” Frisk says. They stoop to grab the backpack and sling it over their shoulder. “I’ll be right there, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. And anything includes hugs.”

“Fucking dork,” Chara whispers.

They let Frisk lead them away from their former grave. It’s a long walk through the Underground.

 

* * *

 

My job is Asriel, who just about panics when we tell him we can’t find Frisk. He wants to help search, but he needs to stay put. If something happened to Frisk, it’s not safe for him to go out and run around. Not since the merge.

He won’t do relaxation techniques. He just paces, scratching at his head frequently. I look around to find something for him to hit safely. As he’s been inching towards monster puberty, Asriel’s anger has gotten worse. He has occasional impulse control problems and is prone to physically lashing out and breaking things or punching holes in walls, especially now that his incoming horns have plagued him with headaches. The increase in stress we’ve all experienced from the merge has not helped anybody.

The only squishy things we have in the house is furniture. I consider taking him over to Alphys and Undyne’s – Undyne has punching bags and other training materials in the basement.

Then I get the phone call.

I look at the caller ID, fumble with the phone in my hurry, and pick up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Frisk replies. “I know I’m a brat for disappearing and making everyone worry. I did it for a good reason.”

“Are you in a safe place?”

Asriel figures out I am talking to Frisk. He jumps onto the couch next to me, leaning some of his weight on my leg before remembering he’s bigger than me and sitting so he can pull me against him instead. One of his hands fastens around my wrist and he puts his head right next to my phone.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Frisk says. “I just had to do something, and I couldn’t tell anyone beforehand. I’m sorry. I’m on my way back now. Could you tell everyone to come to the base of Mount Ebott?”

“Again, Frisk?”

“I know, I know. But – um. This is… it won’t be easy, when everyone gets here. I need you to help me make sure everyone listens to me. It’s going to be emotional, but it’s really important that everyone listens to me.”

They are asking me to trust them, which isn’t a question they have to ask. “Alright, Frisk. I’m going to contact everyone right now. Are you already there?”

“Just about. See you in a bit.”

Frisk hangs up. Asriel won’t let go of my wrist. I snap the fingers of my opposite hand in front of his face. “Asriel. Strength control.”

“Oh.” He jerks, then releases me. “Sorry.”

He didn’t hurt me, but eventually he will hurt someone if he keeps forgetting that he’s growing and getting ludicrously strong. Better to bring his attention to it now.

I scroll through my contacts list. Toriel and Asgore first. Then everyone else.

 

* * *

 

They kind of resentfully remember Asriel’s brief isolation after he came back and then hate themself for resenting it. Asriel needed that; he’d been soulless, unable to process anything. He needed to wait to see other people.

Chara has a soul (apparently), refused to process much of their shit, and thinks it would be best if nobody had to re-meet them. This is going to kill Toriel and Asgore. They don’t even want to think about what it will do to Asriel.

There is no forewarning. Frisk tugs a reluctant Chara by the hand out of the woods and into the field of flowers. Toriel gasps, hands flying to her mouth. Asgore starts crying instantly.

Chara looks at Asriel. He looks at them. And his eyes roll up and he falls.

Isla grabs him, leveraging him into a controlled fall to the ground. She and Undyne are the only ones who have virtually no reaction.

Sans, though…

Chara forgot about Sans. They weren’t expecting him, which was stupid. He’s smiling, like always, but battle after battle after battle enabled Chara to read him almost as well as he could them (“Hmm. That expression… that’s the expression of someone who’s died seven times in a row. Nope, wait, that’s definitely nine, sorry. Or was it ten?”).

He looks confused. Not confused in the way Undyne looks confused. He knows part of it and needs more information.

“Greetings,” they say, voice much calmer than they feel.

“Chara,” Toriel says. She steps forward quickly. “Oh, Chara—”

Frisk steps in front of them. “Not yet, Mom,” they say quietly. “Can we go home before I explain everything?”

Toriel’s glassy eyes widen. “Of course, my child,” she replies, voice wavering. Chara stands behind Frisk and feels like shit. They _know_ Toriel isn’t going to hurt them. That’s _obvious_. Just like they knew Frisk wouldn’t hurt them earlier. But just _thinking_ about hugs and touching right now makes them itch.

Isla takes charge and this is how they end up at Toriel’s. Frisk pushes her chair over in front of the sectional and guides Chara to sit in it. Frisk perches on the arm and withstands the additional healing magic Toriel uses on their face. Papyrus and Alphys are here. Asgore makes tea and Chara feels a lump in their throat when he doesn’t ask them to remind him how they take it. He remembers.

There is little to explain because Frisk isn’t telling anyone – including Chara – how this happened. Frisk does the talking, but leaves out one very important detail.

Chara clears their throat. “Everyone knows about the timelines now, correct?”

Frisk turns to stare at them, wide-eyed. It doesn’t matter. If they don’t tell them, Sans will. Or he should.

“We do,” Isla confirms. “We all have different levels of understanding, but we all know about them.”

Chara sips their tea. “You know that Flowey killed all of you in alternate timelines.”

Asriel’s eyes widen in shock. “Chara,” he says.

It’s the first thing he’s said to them and it makes all the hair on the back of their neck stand up. They’ve been here, with these people, inside Frisk. They watched Frisk and Asriel grow, get older, but it’s different to see and hear them with their own eyes and ears.

Flowey isn’t the point here. “Well, there were timelines in which I killed all of you through Frisk,” Chara continues. “I gained so much LOVE I was able to destroy the world.”

“Chara, you don’t have to tell them,” Asriel says. He knew what they were getting at.

Frisk’s hand on their shoulder. “Chara wasn’t entirely responsible,” they say. “We – we couldn’t always talk to each other. We didn’t always know about the other. How much we remembered varied, so sometimes it was scary and—” their voice cracks. “And we’re _sorry_. We kept going back to try to find a happy ending for everyone, but we didn’t always remember and sometimes we messed up.”

“I became more powerful the more LOVE we gained,” Chara breaks in before anyone can say anything else. “I tried to cut Frisk out early on. There was… another, and I guided—”

“The third,” Sans says quietly. He hunches in on himself. “The other. There were three of you messing with the timelines after Flowey…”

Lots of confusion. Even… “What are you talking about?” Asriel asks. “I mean… I… I get that you were with Frisk, Chara, and I feel like I didn’t know but… now I’m not surprised. I must have figured it out in a different timeline. But there are only two of you so who was the third?”

They feel their eyebrows come together. That’s not right. He should know. “Didn’t you… stay behind to talk to them? At the end?”

“I thought I was talking to _you_ ,” he answers.

That cuts them deep and their eyes briefly close before they manage to smooth out the tension in their face. If Asriel had known they were with Frisk, he might not have insisted on staying behind while everyone else left. He could have come to the surface sooner, gained a soul sooner, had more time to recover…

“The hacker,” Sans mumbles. “There was a hacker…”

“Sans?” Toriel asks. “What are you talking about?”

He turns away from her and mutters something incoherent. Chara thought Sans knew. He turned to the other to tell his first two skeleton puns, after all.

“They’re gone now, so they shouldn’t be an issue,” Chara says. “And they are not the point. The point is that I got stronger the more we killed. Frisk never killed unless I influenced them. That should tell you what kind of person I am. My reaction to Frisk bringing me back was to hit them. I—”

“Chara didn’t have a soul,” Frisk interrupts. “The only thing they could feel was our LOVE increasing. They—”

“The first time after I killed all of you,” Chara says loudly, talking over Frisk, “I attempted to steal Frisk’s soul. Even with all my power, I couldn’t take it completely. I could never go directly after Frisk, but what I did repeatedly drove them away—”

“Chara!” Frisk protests. “Stop acting like it was totally your fault—”

“Because it _was_ ,” Chara snaps. “I manipulated you just like I manipulated Asriel. You couldn’t see the entire picture.” They turn back to everyone else, refusing to look at anyone’s face. “I cut down almost everyone in a single hit. And Papyrus – when we went through slaughtering everyone, you always spared us. Every time. You were the only one who never killed us, and we still killed you.” And you always said you believed in us, they want to say, but something catches in their throat and cuts them off.

There is a long silence. Chara can sense that Frisk is upset.

“So you killed us and we killed you?” Undyne finally asks.

Chara nods without looking to see if Frisk will confirm.

“Well, shit,” Undyne says. “Sounds fair to me. But did you seriously one-hit me?”

Chara looks up, surprised by her casual tone. “No,” they say. “You were the only one who survived a blow from me. You were… one of the two obstacles I faced. Sans was the other.”

Everyone turns to look at the short skeleton, who hunches in on himself even more. “Sans?” Papyrus repeats questioningly. “Are you sure about that?”

“He made us quit a few times,” Frisk whispers. Chara looks at them and sees their cheeks are wet.

Toriel walks around the sectional and comes to crouch in front of them. “My poor children,” she says sadly. She raises a hand and when Chara doesn’t flinch, she cups the side of their head. “We had no idea of what was actually happening. We are so, so sorry we weren’t there for you. We are here for you now.”

What? No, no, this isn’t right. “Did you not hear me?” Chara asks. “I killed you. I wanted to kill you so badly I dusted you in one blow. I did the same – or tried to – to all of you. I slashed Flowey to pieces because I knew he wouldn’t dust. I—”

Shit, they’re crying. Shit, shit, this isn’t good, this is bad, they can’t cry, they have to go—

Toriel catches them when they slip off the chair. They know better, they do, but their body stiffens as she pulls them into her gentle embrace. They bury their face in her shoulder and then there is the pressure on their back of Frisk leaning against them, trembling.

Chara doesn’t want to do this here, in front of anybody, but it’s like a boil in their brain exploded and now all the bad shit is sloshing around in their head and they know they don’t deserve this, they haven’t deserved love since they chased LOVE and destroyed the only family they ever loved to get it, but do they really get to make that choice? They are here because of Frisk, Frisk wanted this, they wanted Chara to have their own life and live as a part of their family, and does Chara really have the right to deny Frisk anything after all they’ve done to Frisk? So the best they can do is suck it up and do it for Frisk, but—

But they hurt Asriel, too, badly. He hasn’t moved from the sectional. He’s still staring at them, wide-eyed, clinging to Isla and not crying.

Frisk peels off them and turns to Asgore, who is suddenly there. Chara can only stand there and take it because they’re already getting the _they’ll be better off without you_ and _you should just end it already_ and they don’t know what Frisk had to do to get them a body and what kind of horrible person would they have to be to repay Frisk like that?

Toriel rubs their back and says, “It is okay now, my child. I promise it is okay. We will take care of you.”

They don’t deserve that, either. Chara makes the mistake of opening their eyes again. Asriel still isn’t crying.

They look at Sans and for a brief moment, he meets their gaze. He looks confused. Then the confusion darkens into something else and Chara looks away first.

 

* * *

 

Asriel wants to stay with me even though Toriel and Asgore indicate they want some time alone with their children. Chara has stopped crying, but Frisk is still going and shows no signs of stopping.

I’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Half of what I’ve heard about Chara had to do with them trying to kill themself. I can tell just by watching them that they have been in a situation or situations in which their safety was threatened. With every change in environment, they mapped all the escape routes. They didn’t seem inclined to touch anyone other than Frisk during the walk home.

At the same time, I don’t know why Asriel isn’t bawling his eyes out. He cries over anything the slightest bit upsetting, so it’s concerning.

He doesn’t even react once everyone is back in their homes. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” I ask him.

He nods without hesitation. “Can I stay here until then?” he asks softly. “Mom and Dad will definitely call you back soon. I just… don’t want to go back tonight. I want to wait until it calms down.”

It’s very strange that he is choosing to distance himself. I’ll have to talk to him later. “OF COURSE YOU CAN, PRINCE!!!” Papyrus shouts. His mood appears to be unaffected by the talk of killing earlier. “WE CAN HAVE A SLEEPOVER!!! COME, LET US SELECT A FEW PUZZLES WITH WHICH TO AMUSE OURSELVES!!!”

Papyrus is sometimes the best part of my life. He grabs Asriel’s hand and tows the young monster upstairs to the loft. Once I hear Papyrus’s door close, I turn to Sans. “You’re not okay. Want to tell me why?”

He looks at me. He still has that edge of fear around his eyesockets. He’s had it since he saw Chara. “Why did we leave them over there alone with that kid?” he wonders aloud. “We should – I should go back over. You stay here, watch Papyrus and Asriel.”

I frown. “You think Chara is dangerous?”

“I don’t wanna take the risk. That kid… everything about them, their expression and posture and the way the walk, I’ve seen it before. I saw it when they had Frisk’s body. Before I… before I killed Frisk. Or before they killed me.”

I grimace. Sans being talkative indicates he’s retracting into his head just a little too much. “I know that happened in another timeline, Sans, but that means it technically never happened. What we have now is a kid who killed themself via buttercups and came back to life.” I bend down to open a cupboard and get some food for Bean. “Do you know what eating buttercups does to a human? It causes blisters to form all over the gastrointestinal tract. Remember when I had that ulcer and puked blood three years ago? That was the baby brother to buttercup poisoning. Asgore told me they couldn’t keep Chara’s sheets clean as they were dying. The kid was constantly puking and shitting blood. And after that started happening, _they didn’t stop_. They made Asriel get more. That kind of willpower…”

“The kid’s really determined,” Sans says mechanically.

Bean waits patiently for me to scoop food into his bowl. “Between the suicide and the fact that they seemed to _want_ their family to reject them, there is definitely something going on that requires my attention.”

“Not to mention the murder of the entire Underground,” Sans mutters.

“That too,” I say. “Whatever it is, I’m going after it.” I am the only psychologist with experience in the trauma of magical rebirths.

“I’ll go back over. You stay here.”

I straighten up as my cat begins eating and purring simultaneously. “How do you expect me to examine and start treating Chara if I’m over here?”

“You’re not treating that little psycho. It’s too risky.”

That – that makes me want to punch something. I inhale through my nose. “I know you didn’t just call a child a ‘psycho’ in front of me.”

“Sorry. What’s the right term? Psychopath?”

“I doubt they’re a psychopath, Sans. They admitted to their manipulation of Frisk and Asriel.”

“But you don’t know.”

“No, I don’t, which is what the examination is for.”

“I don’t want you to put yourself at risk. Not – not until I can…”

He trails off, muttering to himself. “I’m not always right,” I say. “I know that. But I’m usually right, and my impression of this kid is that they’re really fucked up and they need a lot of help. Toriel and Asgore are _not_ going to let this child slip away again. The best course of action for everyone is if I treat Chara. If I examine them and reveal new information that points to a more optimal course of action, I will switch gears.”

“You didn’t see them,” Sans says, and he’s half-snarling. “They killed _Papyrus_ of all people. Papyrus! They said so themself, Papyrus refused to fight them if they’d been killing everybody and they still _killed him_!”

I stay quiet for a moment. His magic is acting up; his left eyesocket is flashing. As I watch, he puts a hand over it.

“We’ve talked about this,” I say. “You’ve never been this angry before.”

He’s scowling. He’s full-on scowling and it’s kind of scary because he never does anything other than variations of smiles. “They’re right next door and they could hurt everybody.”

“Do you honestly believe they will?”

“I… don’t know. But I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to risk anybody. I hate leaving Asgore and Toriel over there because they’ll never see it coming. Hell, they might even hurt Frisk now that they don’t need Frisk anymore.”

My phone buzzes. I pull up the text message. “Toriel says they’re ready for me,” I say. “Tell Asriel I’ll be back—”

Sans is suddenly in front of me and his hand closes on my wrist. “I don’t want you going over there.”

His grip is loose and he sounds slightly desperate. I level an unblinking stare at him. “I’m going over. You can come if you want, as long as you do nothing to make anyone uncomfortable. I will be having a conversation with Chara that you will not interrupt. You’re going to let me go. Clear?”

He closes his eyesockets, in such obvious pain that it hurts my heart. “Please.”

Instead of pulling away, I step forward and wrap my free arm around him. “I’ll come back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He lets me go.


	2. Patience: the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without becoming angry or upset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad to see some of you I've talked to on previous stories are back, and if you haven't commented, feel free cuz I like dicking around with people who read my self-indulgent crap. Let's have fun hurting together over this because it's gonna punch you right in the feels.
> 
> As usual, kick my ass if you notice grammar or spelling errors.

I’m two steps inside the house when Asgore presses a steaming teacup in my hands. “Is everything alright?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was hoping you would tell us.”

That’s why I’m here. “Where are they at?”

“Kitchen. I feel like I should forewarn you. Chara… doesn’t hold humans in high regard. I’m inclined to say they will do better if you keep your distance, but they may be used to you from your interactions with Frisk.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Asriel is entertaining Papyrus. He wants to stay with me tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Toriel.”

He’s overwhelmed. He doesn’t question his son’s absence. It’s weird that Asriel apparently doesn’t want to be around Chara right now and is having no emotional reaction to their rebirth. I know he isn’t mad at them – if he were, he’d let me know, at the very least.

I go into the kitchen. Chara is at the table, gnawing on a chocolate bar. Somebody got into Asriel or Frisk’s old clothes because they aren’t wearing what Frisk pilfered from me anymore. Now they are in long sleeves and I can’t see the scars all over their arms.

Frisk is sitting next to them, eyes so swollen they are almost closed, drinking their own cup of tea. They stand up when they see me, chair scooting loudly across the floor, and then they are dashing around the table.

I open my arms just as they crash into me. I tilt my head up and whisper to them, “You’ll have to tell me just how you were able to sneak into our room to rummage through my dresser. I would think Sans would catch you doing that.”

Frisk whispers back, “I went through your underwear drawer. Everything was boring.”

I laugh and smack the back of their head, pulling back. “What, is cotton boring?”

“I thought maybe I’d find at least _one_ scandalous thing.”

“Guess again.” I pause. “You were worried about how everyone would react, weren’t you?”

They smile. I know those not-memories of their dusty walk Underground still bother them. Most of my time spent in sessions with them is on that. They don’t need me often for it, but it’s still good to have a mental checkup every once in a while, and Chara claiming responsibility for the technically nonexistent genocide exacerbated Frisk’s distress.

“I’m okay,” Frisk tells me. “I just… want everyone else to be okay too.”

They turn to Chara as they say it. It’s… I’ve seen pictures, but it’s more in my face in-person. If I were ten years old again Chara would look more like my sibling than Shannon ever did. The only coloring that is off is our eyes. Mine are hazel, theirs are… not red-tinted brown. More like a very deep red.

Chara rolls their eyes. “Just go, Frisk. Nobody is going to leave me alone until I get this over with.”

“You sure?” Frisk asks. “I can stay if you want.”

“No,” they say. “I’ll be fine.”

Frisk nods at them, scoops up their tea, and goes upstairs. I sit down across from Chara. Maybe they’ll be more comfortable with a table between us.

“I’d like to get to the point,” Chara says, all business. “Toriel and Asgore don’t feel like they can make me do anything, but they really pushed me to talk to you. Frisk didn’t bring me back to make them miserable, so. I guess I’m talking to you.”

I slide my notebook and pencil across the table to them. “Do me a favor and write your name.”

They give me a flat look. “Just do it,” I say.

They do, and once they are done they shove the notebook back at me. “You’re left-handed,” I observe.

A kind of bitter smile twists their lips. “Right. You get fifteen things out of a single action when most people look for one, don’t you?”

“Until now, I thought Frisk was ambidextrous. They’re right-handed, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but their preference isn’t very strong. That’s why it was easy for them to use their left hand even when I wasn’t in control.”

I will have to take a moment later and think back to every time at which I saw this handwriting. It’s different from Frisk’s. “You left off your last name.”

Their eyebrows come together and their face turns red. “I don’t _have_ a last name.”

“I thought Toriel and Asgore adopted you.”

“Oh.” Most of their anger leaves them. They thought I meant something else. “I’ve never thought of myself as Chara Dreemurr.”

“So you don’t consider them your family?”

“No. Not really. Not most of the time.”

I’m frowning. “Why not?”

There is a long pause that has me fidgeting. Chara notices and half-smirks. “Do I creep you out, Isla? It’s the eyes, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve only blinked twice in the last seventy seconds. I was starting to think you were doing it on purpose.”

They frown. “What?”

“I thought you were staring deliberately,” I say. “I frequently do that to politicians and racist jerks when I want to be unsettling. It ends arguments sooner.”

Another pause. Apparently they’ve been told their eyes are creepy (all eyes are creepy when blink rate decreases exponentially) and whoever said that was likely referring to the color.

When I realize they aren’t going to volunteer any information, I say, “Normally I’d start with fact-gathering. With you, I feel compelled to ask whether you have a plan to hurt or kill yourself.”

“I wouldn’t do that to Frisk,” they answer, voice quieter than it was a minute ago. “I don’t know what they did, but I know it took effort and risk. They want me here. Toriel and Asgore do too, even if they shouldn’t. And anyway, I am useful like this. As a human. I think I’m human.”

Everything that comes out of this kid’s mouth is loaded. They didn’t mention Asriel. They haven’t mentioned Asriel. “What do you want out of this aside from preventing other people from worrying?”

I made them think. “I… suppose I wouldn’t be opposed to learning some relaxation techniques. It has… always been difficult for me to turn my brain off.”

“That tends to be the case for the highly intelligent.”

They snort a little. “I’m sure that’s not my problem.”

I’m sure it is. Frisk and Chara didn’t remember every reset (apparently because they weren’t in control of all of them, which is confusing and something I will ask Sans about later). They weren’t able to accumulate knowledge the way Flowey was able to from timeline to timeline.

Asriel isn’t particularly smart. Not in the conventional sense. He has a lot of knowledge and he knows how to put new information into his head, but that is because he had the time to figure out how to do that. Asriel is like Papyrus in that he can swing from extremely oblivious to extremely insightful in social situations. Frisk doesn’t strike me as a genius, either, even though they are very good at their job.

Chara’s intelligent, though. I don’t need more than five minutes with them to know that.

“Okay,” I say simply. “I can teach you a few things right now, as long as you understand that I’m anticipating sessions multiple times a week for the foreseeable future. Maybe even every day. We have a lot to talk about that we haven’t gone near yet.”

They make a face. “Fine.”

“Would you be comfortable with me touching you?”

“No. The body’s still too new. I’m barely comfortable touching inanimate objects, let alone people.”

“Okay.” I’ve been writing nonstop. The things they say can be dissected dozens of different ways. I need more information, but I can’t come at them too fast. I have to go slow. Be patient.

I set aside the notebook and look up. “I can talk us through a few exercises. I have a feeling it’s going to be difficult for you, since it may put you into a slight hypnotic state. You have to want to follow my directions, but that may not be the case if you don’t trust me. Frisk knows how to do a couple of these; I can give them a refresher if you want to try it with them later.”

“Isla, I’ve known you for four years,” Chara reminds me. “I was there. You don’t know me, but I know you.”

I consider this. “Are you saying you trust me?”

“No,” they reply. “I like you. I don’t trust you generally. I do trust you to do your job. That said, I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, so just talk and I’ll see what I’m capable of doing.”

 

* * *

 

Frisk wants them to interact with their friends. Surprising nobody, Papyrus wants to go first.

Isla is observing without involving herself. Chara feels like they have to be careful of her and, at the same time, that they should trust her with everything. They don’t like it. There is no doubt about her loyalties, even if she is human – the moment she took bullets for Asriel convinced them fully of that. But… she just _looks_ , and she _sees_ , and they don’t want anyone to see. They never wanted Frisk to see, even if they did.

And then there’s the relationship with Sans that totally blindsided them. Frisk was surprised Chara didn’t see it coming, because apparently, everyone else saw it coming. It must have just been them.

Papyrus gets down on his knees and sticks his hand out. “HELLO, TINY HUMAN!!! I know we did not get a chance to formally introduce ourselves the last time we saw one another. I am THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!!”

Chara stares at the hand. Frisk swoops in to direct the situation before it derails. “Papyrus, Chara doesn’t really like touching people,” they tell him.

“Oh.” The skeleton blinks, then smiles bright again. He retracts the hand. “Well, that is alright! I would not want you to feel uncomfortable.”

They feel something bitter and hard in their chest, something that makes them clench their fists and draw their eyebrows together. This – this kind of ceaseless optimism and assuming the best of everyone is stupid. It’s going to get him hurt. But Papyrus is an adult, he’s lived on the surface for four years, so it _should_ have bit him in the ass by now. It’s dumb and risky and something they can’t ever have again because it isn’t _safe_.

They sense Frisk watching them worriedly. They are vaguely aware of a conversation going on behind them between Isla and Toriel and Asgore. Perhaps Isla is attempting to distract the king and queen from hovering over Chara while simultaneously keeping an eye on everything herself. Seems like something she would do.

Chara inhales through their nose, counts to ten, and lets it out. They hold their hand out. “Greetings, Papyrus. I’m Chara.”

He smiles and takes their hand. Presumably thanks to Frisk’s warning, he is much gentler than what Chara would have expected from him. “It is very nice to meet you, Chara!! Now, before we make friends with one another I just want to clarify one thing. All those stories about you killing monsters that apparently happened for real in other timelines?? That is okay!! I forgive you for it!! It is obvious to me that you feel very bad about it and I hope being friends with me can help you forgive YOURSELF for it!! So let us commence a ‘hangout’ to celebrate the beginning of a terrific friendship!!”

Right in the damn jugular. They swallow a lump in their throat that wasn’t there before, schooling their face into a mask of neutrality. “I would like that.” They have control of the timbre of their voice, but not the volume. They are talking too quietly, so they try to speak louder. “I would like that a lot, Papyrus.”

What follows is something with Papyrus-levels of ridiculousness and lots of excited squawking. Frisk joins in to reel Papyrus in when necessary. Toriel and Asgore frequently check in on them. They are still tense. They told Chara what Asriel had told them and Chara basically had nothing to say. They didn’t expect him to keep their plan a secret. He needed to reveal it for his own healing, and Chara wanted him to heal, they still want him to heal, even though he’s not _here_.

The puzzles are definitely the best part. There is something satisfying about working a problem that has an obvious method with one solution and getting it right. It would be nice if the rest of the world was that way, too.

They aren’t scared or wary of Papyrus, but his typical manner of behavior can be… startling. He flails and shouts a lot. They still aren’t quite used to it by the time the hangout comes to an end, but maybe they can get used to it.

Isla talks to them again afterwards. Chara is more than willing to talk about killing everybody and possessing Frisk, but she doesn’t want to talk about that. She wants to go in chronological order. She wants to know what drove them to climb Mount Ebott in the first place.

She called it fact-gathering. They suppose it makes sense. She can’t accurately gauge their later actions without first knowing their reasons for their earlier actions.

Still, only Frisk knows about that shit, and they never wanted Frisk to know. They have to stay above it, shove it down, and maybe if they never acknowledge it, it will eventually leave them alone.

They don’t say anything. They don’t bother testing Isla again. They don’t bother trying to intimidate her or put her off. They know she will be ten steps ahead of them if they give her something, so they refuse to answer and give her nothing.

She tries a different tactic. “Can I see your scars, Chara?”

“No,” they say. They aren’t embarrassed by them. They just don’t want anyone to worry. And maybe, if they don’t show anyone, nobody will notice if they have to show someone later and a few more have been added. It always really, really upset Asriel when they self-harmed, and…

And he’s not here. He has been avoiding them since they came back.

Undyne and Alphys come to see them next. Undyne wants them to describe her fight with them, in detail, and how she survived attacks with killing intent behind them. Isla intervenes, but Chara doesn’t care. Maybe this will show everyone what they are really like.

So they tell them. Frisk has to go over to Isla and try to cling to her even though they are bigger than she is and it’s awkward-looking.

When they are done, Undyne scrunches her face up. “It _sounds_ sorta familiar. But I don’t actually remember it.” She shark-grins. “But it sounds like I was AWESOME!!!”

Chara can’t stop their own smile and they open their mouth to say that she – they don’t know, inspires them or some stupid shit like that. She makes them want to live, if there’s even a fraction of a chance they could be the slightest bit like her. To just _know_ that they could handle any threat that came their way, to…

To be the one everyone is scared of, rather than scared of everyone else. They feel the smile drop. This is who they are, they can’t forget that. LV 1 and they still crave power.

Have to play the part. Have to please Frisk and keep Toriel and Asgore from making themselves sick with worry.

They glance at Alphys and notice she looks slightly distressed. “Alphys,” they say, to get her attention. “If it’s any consolation, I am sorry. And I’m not expecting forgiveness or anything at all.”

“Oh!” she squeaks. “Y-y-you d-don’t… well, they aren’t real memories anyways. I just… it f-feels kinda like déjà vu? And obviously any emotions t-t-to come from th-that would be unpleasant… sorta residual, you know?” She waves a hand like she’s embarrassed of her inability to articulate it. Which is fine, because Chara could never think of a good way to describe it. “A-anyway, w-w-we talked some yesterday and this morning and came to the conclusion that we’re all h-here, and we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t w-want us to be. And all the killing technically never happened?? So I don’t know if f-forgiveness is necessary?? B-b-but if you think it is, we forgive you!!”

Undyne keeps grinning toothily. “Totally, punk.”

It… goes perhaps better than Chara expected, but they know better than to expect anything out of anyone at this point. Dinner that night is a little more relaxed. Asriel comes home for the first time that day. Chara wonders whether Isla or his parents made him. He’s fidgety and quiet and won’t stop staring at the table.

Frisk talks to Asriel after dinner while Chara sits on the floor by Toriel’s chair and knits while she reads. It seems to do her a lot of good, at any rate. Several times they catch her in their peripheral vision watching them and smiling.

Asriel finally says something to them that night, but it’s nothing. He just says, “Goodnight, Chara. Goodnight, Frisk,” with a downcast gaze and scurries up the ladder to the top bunk. Chara stares after him while Frisk returns his words. By the time Chara thinks to say it back, it’s too late and he probably doesn’t want to talk to them, anyway.

They decide to go to the bathroom and maybe throw some water on their face to clear their head before crawling into bed with Frisk. They don’t even search the bathroom for razors or anything sharp while they are there. They know better, they know pretending to be good doesn’t make you good, but if Frisk and everyone else eventually sees them for who they really are they won’t have to pretend anymore.

When they turn around and leave the bathroom, they almost smack into Sans.

They freeze. His left eyesocket is beginning to glow blue. They blink and see him slashed shoulder to hip, ketchup grossly oozing out of the wound, obscuring the dust. They blink again and it’s gone.

“Let’s just get to the point,” he says.

They stop breathing, but he doesn’t yank their soul out and try to rip it apart. He keeps talking. “My bro came home and told me he made a new friend. He said they were shy and quiet and really good at puzzles.” A pause. “As I recall, you don’t like puzzles. You walked right through ‘em. Didn’t even give Paps a chance to explain them.”

They feel the blood rush to their face and they know they’re turning red. As far as the atrocities they’ve committed go, walking through Papyrus’s puzzles doesn’t even count. Why is he talking about that? Why not about how Papyrus’s body dusted as his still-talking head claimed he still believed they could do better? About how they proved him wrong by reaching Sans?

They should really step back. Sans is barely a foot from them. Their personal space is much larger than this.

But if Sans tries to hurt them, he won’t _hurt_ them. He’ll just kill them.

He leans closer. “I don’t know you, kid. I just know what you did once upon a timeline. I don’t know what you will do and I have no idea how your separation from Frisk affects their and your ability to reset. I have no choice but to give you a chance. But we have a good thing goin’ here. Even your brother has the best possible ending. You don’t wanna screw that up, right?”

Finally. Finally someone else sees them for who they really are.

It’s a relief, which is probably why they smirk and say, “What are you going to do about it, Sans?”

His eyesockets go dark, then the left starts to flash. “I’ll stop you.”

“That’s hardly fair,” they say sarcastically. “When you thought Frisk was responsible for killing everyone, you didn’t threaten them.”

“I knew it wasn’t Frisk,” he growls. “At least, not the same Frisk. I don’t know you, but I _recognize_ you. The way you walk, your expressions… you _are_ the person who destroyed the world.”

Just how far? How far can they push him? “If you so much as touch me, Frisk will turn against you in an instant,” Chara says. “Not to mention how my parents would react.” It feels weird, _wrong_ , to say ‘my parents’ but the impact of that term will be greater than using their names. “Papyrus would be _so_ disappointed in you. He wasn’t even disappointed in _me_ after I killed him.”

They see how he stiffens up, how blue flame erupts from his flashing eyesocket. Instead of initiating a fight, he tries to cover the magic spilling out of his face with a hand. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, forcing himself to calm down.

“Don’t I? I’d like to see Isla’s reaction if you tried anything. I have a feeling getting dumped would be the least of your issues if you hurt me.”

He says nothing and just stares at them, grin strained resentfully, hand still pressed to his face. That won’t do. Chara realizes they need him, they need him for something only he’s able to do. They will only believe it if it comes from him.

They spread their arms. “But that is your right, if you judge it necessary,” they say softly. “So go ahead.”

Sans looks right at them. And he vanishes.

They stand there gaping for a few seconds. He _ran away._ Bastard. Coward.

When they climb into bed with Frisk, they feel defeated.

 

* * *

 

What the fuck was the kid’s problem? It was like they wanted him to attack them.

Maybe they did. Maybe they want to turn everyone he cares about against him. That would be a horrible, nasty thing to do. And they’re horrible and nasty, right?

He can’t get it out of his head. Their face when they realized he cornered them. For a moment, they looked terrified, and he could tell it was genuine fear.

That’s _no good_. He won’t be on his guard if he thinks of them as a scared little kid. And he can’t wait this time. One step out of line, one wrong move, and he has to act. He cannot sit here and watch the world end around him again. He can’t.

But what does he do? He doesn’t know if he can kill the kid without hurting Frisk. Well – he knows it will hurt Frisk _emotionally_ , but… they shared the same body for years, and even if Chara has been subconsciously hiding their soul from everyone around them and Sans has avoided looking directly at it, Frisk hasn’t been hiding theirs and Sans noticed something _different_ about Frisk’s soul. What if they’re connected somehow? Chara admitted to trying to take Frisk’s soul. What if he kills Chara and it kills Frisk?

Damn. He can’t do _anything_.

He teleports to the living room and drags his feet up the stairs. Papyrus is already asleep. It looks like Isla has already gone to bed, too, probably so she can keep the same schedule as the hellspawn next door.

And _damnit_ Chara looks like Isla. He wants to ignore it but he’s seen pictures of Isla from twenty years ago and they could have been fucking twins.

Just the right amount of stagger as he opens the door. And, immediately, Isla’s voice: “I’m not asleep, you can turn the lights on.”

“Don’t need to,” he replies. He shrugs his hoodie off, steps out of his slippers, and leaves them both on the floor.

He gets into bed. She will probably ask him where he was since she knows he wasn’t working, so to distract her he grabs until he gets a handful of thigh. Her back is to him, so obviously the next target is her butt.

“Are you drunk?” she asks blandly.

She doesn’t pull away from him, so he keeps groping. “Maybe.”

“Sans, when you get shitfaced by yourself, it’s always because you had a bad day.”

He should feel worse about lying to her, but it’s kind of exciting to get away with it for once because she can always tell. “It wasn’t the greatest day,” he admits, which is true.

She flips over and as soon as she settles his hands are on her again. “You can talk to me if you’re having a hard time with seeing Chara,” she says. “Just because I’m treating them doesn’t mean I can’t help you. I already understand why they’re a problem for you.”

He almost groans. “Can you not right now?”

“What would you rather do?”

She says she’s not soft, but her skin always feels soft to him. Then again, almost anything is softer than bone. “I think that’s obvious, Isla.”

She’s not moving to help him. “You want to have sex to top off your shitty day? Will that make you feel better?”

Damn her and her manipulating. He knows she does it because she wants to guide him to the correct decision about what’s best for him, but right now, it’s pissing him off. “Yes,” he answers decisively. He’ll probably have to do all the work, she’s clearly not in the mood and – and – it’s okay, right? They’ve definitely had sex before when she wasn’t in the mood. Sans always thought his sex drive was low, but hers is lower still. She loves him, so yeah, she does it sometimes when she doesn’t really want to, or sometimes she wants to but she’s having a bad pain day and she wants to avoid having an orgasm just in case that makes it worse, and it never feels like he’s just using her to get off.

But he’s never had sex with her angry before and he doesn’t want to be pissed at a ten-year-old while he fucks his partner. Just the thought is unappealing.

He has stopped moving and she finally rests her hands on his own to pull them off her. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

It’s just as well. His train of thought has killed the mood. He falls back against the pillow. “I talked to Chara today.”

Even in the dark, he can feel her gaze pierce him. “How did this exchange go?”

“I told them I’d stop them if they tried to hurt anyone.”

She leans over and turns the lamp on the nightstand on. “Damnit, Sans!” she snaps. “You threatened them!?”

“Not quite—”                                                                                      

“The whole exchange. Word for word. Now. Don’t leave anything out.”

He tells her and she watches him the whole time, eyes sharp. He doesn’t feel good about what happened. He doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he was expecting or what he wanted but he got neither. Maybe he wanted the kid to cry? Then he would have known that they meant it, that they weren’t the same human who turned the Underground to dust.

He feels the need to add, “It’s like they were goading me. They told me outright everyone would be furious with me.”

Isla looks away, then comes back to him. “They were goading you, but they weren’t trying to sabotage you. It had nothing to do with you. They were probably punishing themself.”

“What, because they killed themself?”

“Chara has a history of self-harm. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh.” That… doesn’t seem like them. Or what he knows of them. He knows they killed themself so Asriel would take their soul and shatter the barrier, but why would a suicidal kid not only kill everyone they came across, but hunt down those who were trying to hide? If that were the case, letting themself be killed seems like the solution…

But how can he say for sure that they didn’t? His memories are selective, he knows that. His stupid mind only tends to pull the traumatizing details out of the dreamlike mush that is the other timelines. The kid letting themself be killed wouldn’t have been traumatizing for him, would it? Hell, it could have happened while he was sleeping.

“I’ll have to ask them about it,” Isla says. “It was shitty of you to do that to them, but… thank you for telling me. I doubt they will, at any rate.”

Sans turns and grabs onto her again, pulling her close. Neither of them is much for cuddling, but it’s nice to have the option, and last night they didn’t because Asriel was on her other side.

He knows what he wants to say, but he tones it down. “I still don’t like the idea of you treating them. Not yet, anyway.”

“You’re never going to like the idea. And you don’t have to.” She cups his face. “I love you and I know you’re worried, but you are not going to stop me from doing this.”

“I know. I just… wish you’d let me figure out whether they’re dangerous or not.”

“Cornering and threatening them is not the way to go about doing that. Let me do my job.”

He doesn’t like it, but he will. That doesn’t mean he can’t keep an eyesocket on the kid.


	3. Perseverance: steady persistence of a goal in spite of difficulties, failures, or opposition.

Chara is uncomfortable the next day because we have to address some things that have been glossed over. They need identification and Toriel and Asgore want to officially adopt them. They refuse to tell anyone their birth name, which is fine with me. It doesn’t matter since they were born over a century ago. Anyone who says it’s necessary will have to argue with me, and Sans has compared arguing with me to trying to stop a volcano from erupting.

When I ask them if they want to be officially adopted, Chara says no. What they want is to be emancipated at ten years old, but they know that isn’t going to happen. I don’t want any temporary guardianships happening because I’m afraid someone would use that as an opportunity to remove them from our care. They claim outright that they will not tolerate being put into foster care or letting any humans they don’t know near them, so. It’s a rather uneasy consensus for a hurried adoption, even if Chara is reluctant.

Identification has to happen before adoption. I know we’re going to catch shit for another dead kid coming back to life, and a human one at that. I’m hoping I can absorb all of it. Nobody in this family needs that crap right now. Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk are all uptight, like they are waiting for something to happen, and Asriel is still avoiding Chara.

We need to know what kind of identification to get. We need to examine Chara’s soul and body to see whether we might be able to pass them off as a monster. They don’t want either of those things to happen, but they understand the necessity.

Our first stop is the lab. Sans meets us there. He doesn’t look at Chara and barely acknowledges the rest of us. Chara keeps glancing at him, although they don’t seem to be afraid.

Frisk goes first. Eight months ago, Alphys upgraded the program we use to collect, store, and visualize soul data. We now know what most of the data means and we have theories on almost everything else. Everything on the screen is a lot prettier now.

“Brightness is down, kiddo,” Sans says, tone unreadable. “You’re still in the ninety-ninth percentile, but now you’re closer to four standard deviations above the mean than five.”

I come up next to him. I know I was harsh on him last night. He deserved it, but… I know this has reopened old wounds for him, too. “Does that mean Frisk and Chara’s readings were combined when they shared a body?”

“We’ll see,” Sans replies cryptically. “You’re up, Chara.”

Chara heads into the scanner as Frisk leaves. They cross their arms and stand close to the door rather than going to the middle of the small room. Are they claustrophobic?

“You needed to see this, didn’t you?” I ask Sans quietly. Chara’s readings come up. LV 1, 0 EXP.

He doesn’t answer me. I hear the door close as Chara leaves the scanner. They walk past Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk to stand right next to Sans. “Well?” they say, looking at him as he refuses to even glance at them.

“Brightness in the twenty-third percentile,” Sans says after a moment. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you weren’t very determined.”

“Brightness can change in a matter of seconds,” I tell them. “It’s correlated with mental health, which seems counterintuitive because psychological issues never resolve themselves in seconds. But your situation is unique, so we can’t rule out that your brightness is down because your soul is in a new environment and needs time to adjust.” I point to the screen. “Sans, look.”

“I see,” he says tonelessly.

Chara’s personality is similar to mine, but they do not share my patience. I turn to them. “Your soul’s strength is low. ‘Strength’ is a working term and we’re not entirely sure whether we want to quantify or categorize the data yet, but there are two general groups: those with ‘normal’ strength, and, very rarely, those with weaker strength.”

“Ah,” Chara says. “That makes sense. Mages’ souls would be weaker when compared to those of other humans. That trait could have been passed down.”

For a second, I wonder who told them about that hypothesis, because I didn’t, then I recall I told Frisk and they were there. “It’s a possibility. It will be difficult to make any definite conclusions, given our small sample size – we only know that seven mages were here centuries ago. We don’t know how many of them stayed or had offspring. Right now, we’ve only seen this lower strength nineteen times, and two of those were you and Frisk. We’ll also take a DNA sample from you once we get to the hospital, if you’re okay with that.”

“As long as you don’t use it to find people who may be biologically related to me,” they reply. This is not the first time they have said something like that.

I glance at Sans. He’s… filtering through the data dump. Part of the new upgrade was a program that sends the data we haven’t figured out directly to storage to be looked at later. He’s going after Chara’s extra readings now. Why?

“So I’m human,” Chara says. It’s a question, but it sounds more like a statement.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but looks that way,” Sans says.

Chara stares at him for a while. I’m surprised they are standing that closely to him; they tend to be very conscious in the maintenance of their personal space, so much so that I have never seen them accidentally touch someone. But right now they are close enough to bump into Sans.

That turns out to be the easy part of the day. Before we go to the hospital, I convince Toriel and Asgore it is better they not be there – they will draw the most attention to whomever is with them. Frisk and I smuggle Chara in with the strategy of Frisk going on ahead and engaging in conversation with anyone who looks curiously at us. Chara has one of Frisk’s hoodies on and the hood pulled over their head. It’s October, so the weather isn’t a good excuse, but it’s a passable excuse.

Spencer wasn’t supposed to be working today, but he said he’d come in when I called him this morning. When he finished up his residency, he came directly here to complete a Monster Medicine fellowship – it was new and sort of experimental and there are a lot of things humans can’t do because they can’t use magic, but he has learnt a lot and he enjoys it. He and Natalie basically skipped the dating step and decided to move in together. They were engaged barely five weeks later. I thought they were in a relationship when I first met them, so it’s been a long time coming.

Alphys is here with Spencer, which is why she wasn’t at the lab. Alphys tends to lean towards mechanical engineering and soul science, but I know she has a degree in biology, too – monster biology. I wanted her here for the sake of having a monster in the room, just in case. I know Chara is somehow psychologically deviant, and if they happen to have triggers and we happen to set one off and they need a monster, Alphys is here.

Chara goes to the examination table and hops up. Frisk stays next to them. Spencer starts with the blood and DNA samples before moving on to the physical examination. Chara is fine with the needle, but reluctant to pull their sleeve up to expose a scarred arm, which Spencer doesn’t mention because he knows that’s my job and I forewarned him about prying with this kid. I tell Alphys about what we saw at the lab.

He listens to their heart and lungs and examines the orifices in their head. Then he asks them to stand up and walk in a variety of silly ways. They don’t say a word until he asks if they know what vaccines they had or if they ever had any broken bones.

Chara looks at me. I tap on my forearm. Their scars are still there, so injuries carried through their rebirth. Their vaccines might have, too, but part of their bloodwork will be titers so we’ll know what they need anyway.

They don’t look less confused. “How is that relevant?” they ask.

“We’re putting together a medical history for you,” Spencer answers. If he weren’t kindness, he’d be patience. “Your paperwork has to start somewhere. The plan was to look at previously broken bones to see if they might cause you trouble later on.”

“I thought we were looking for something that would let me register as a monster,” they say.

Frisk touches their hand. “Chara… I’m pretty sure you’re human.”

“Oh, I know. I agree. But getting my ID and paperwork as a monster would be much easier.”

I look at Spencer, Alphys, and Frisk in turn. “Can you step out for a moment? I need to talk to Chara alone.”

Chara doesn’t protest, so they go. Frisk gives me a worried look. I pat them on the shoulder to reassure them.

When the door closes, I say, “You want to leave now, don’t you?”

“I never wanted to come,” they reply.

“You were there when Frisk had their physical examination. Were you the reason for their headache?”

They stare at me. “You remember that,” they say quietly.

I sit in one of the chairs, both to put more distance between us and to put my head below theirs. “Honestly, Chara? I’ve been combing through my memories and picking out moments in which I now know I saw you. Between that and what your family told me about you, I knew you were struggling with something before I met you. Your behavior throws all sorts of red flags into the air. Whatever was wrong and had a hand in your suicide, it’s still wrong.”

I rub my fingers over the jacked-up scar on my right thigh through my leggings. “This is the information I’m going to give you: gathering evidence of abuse was necessary in Frisk’s case because their former guardians still legally had custody of them when the monsters came to the surface. It is not necessary in your case. Legally, I think you’d go into the foster system. I don’t believe Toriel and Asgore will have trouble adopting you. I know Spencer would like to do more, and the more he documents, the better it is for us.

“But you’re the patient, so it’s your call. I do know you’re having psychological symptoms – even though you’ve been very good at hiding them. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that more medical examinations would reveal things you aren’t ready to talk about. I’m not going to make you do anything. So what do you want to do?”

Something shifts in the tiny muscles around their eyes. They look younger. “I want to leave.”

“Okay. We have to wait for some of your bloodwork to come back first, but after that we can go.”

 

* * *

 

Chara pays no attention to the world outside their home and little group of people when their situation is made public. By that time, the adoption is official and over with. They still don’t feel right about that, even if they know it was their best option.

Frisk tells them people want to see them, know about them, hear them speak. Chara doesn’t give a flying fuck about what other humans want. The only humans who mean anything to them are Frisk and Isla. And maybe Kalene Dyre, even though they technically haven’t met her yet. She did punch that little shit who shoved Asriel a year-and-a-half ago.

Most of their time is spent knitting and reading. They’ve been asking for Isla’s textbooks. She was doubtful they could understand them, but she lets them come over and look through the bookshelf and borrow what they want. They don’t understand a lot, but they get more than they expected. And it’s an excuse to go over to that house, try to see Sans – but he leaves the room if they enter it.

He runs from them. He’s avoiding them, just like Asriel is avoiding them.

It’s fine. It’s _fine_. Chara knows they don’t have the right to need anyone. Their job is to be quiet and unobtrusive and do everything they can to make sure these people aren’t worrying about them.

They are already failing on the last front. Asriel moves into the bedroom across the hall. He mumbles something to Frisk about giving them and Chara space in explanation. Frisk admits to Chara that he’s been avoiding them too and Chara nods and clenches their fists and doesn’t want to talk about this and they don’t realize they have a stiff, forced smile on their face until Frisk shuts up and slowly, slowly draws them into a hug.

They don’t know what they would do without Frisk. Even though one of the bunk beds is free now, they keep sleeping in the same bed. They were closer before, when Chara was in their head, when they shared a body. It doesn’t feel weird or itchy or breath-sucking to press close to Frisk.

Alright, maybe it is a little weird. Chara knows Frisk’s body better than the one they are occupying now. They miss it. A lot. They miss hiding behind Frisk. They miss being unseen. They miss imagining that their badness can be smothered under somebody else’s goodness, but they aren’t nearly naïve enough to believe that anymore.

Toriel and Asgore basically let them do what they want. Toriel, presumably, hid the knife block and every other visible sharp object the first night they were back.

It doesn’t matter. Chara already has something. They haven’t used it yet, but just the thought of it being there, the option, quells some of the gnawing on their insides and the spikes in their brain.

Isla asks them about what Sans said to them. They scowl. The fucker told her about that. He’s whipped.

They tell her they feel uneasy around Sans due to the sheer number of deaths at his hands and he made them feel trapped, so they got nasty. It’s… not completely a lie. It does imply that they’d like to avoid Sans when the opposite is true.

They can’t tell whether she believes them. Other than that, they try. They really do, because these people who want to be their family deserve a serious attempt from them. They try to talk about being soulless and killing everyone, but it’s difficult because they don’t really remember it. They talk about accidentally poisoning Asgore and premediating on the cause of their own death, but anything about Asriel just won’t come out of their mouth.

Everything from Before is the same. They try, but the words stop in their throat and crawl up their brainstem to start up storms inside their head and they have to shut up, shut up, _shut up_ because why won’t it go away? They understand enough from Isla’s textbooks to know what’s going on. They understand enough to know she’s doing everything right. So why won’t it come out or go away?

They get their identification and paperwork designating them a ‘real person.’ The one thing that pleases them is that ID cards don’t have genders on them anymore. Biological sex is kept in medical records, but nobody has asked Chara what’s going on between their legs. Frisk knows and they know Toriel and Asgore know from handling their body after their death, but they’re it. That wasn’t a question Asriel ever asked them.

Isla is… surprisingly good with them. She is definitely light blue. The only issues Chara has with their sessions is their own inability to talk about some things and that Isla tends to come over rather than letting Chara into her house, where they might see Sans.

But every time they see him he walks out. Every time Asriel has to be in the same room as them, he stares at his feet or the floor and looks depressed. And every time they crawl into bed with Frisk, the other human hugs them close and asks if there were able to talk about more and their answer is always no.

They try. The only progress they make is within the first week. The next three are stagnant, nothing, full of psychology books they half-understand and knitting projects and words they choke on and can’t spit out.

If they cannot get better, what is the next-best option?

 

* * *

 

I convince Shannon that no, the new kid does not want to meet her. Chara is not interested in meeting other humans. In fact, they won’t leave the house, even after they are public. Asgore tells me the monsters want to see them, but he’s not about to parade his child about unless they want to do that and they obviously don’t.

That’s why it’s a bit of a toss-up when Kalene comes over. Asriel lights up when Ezra’s car pulls into my driveway. I haven’t seen him look like that in a while.

I go next door first so I can intervene if I need to. I realize quickly there is no need to – Kalene has spent a lot of time around Frisk, so Chara knows her, even if she doesn’t know them. Asriel shuffles nervously as I introduce his sibling to his friend. Chara is fine, but they immediately exclude themself by sitting down in front of the fireplace and knitting.

After I finish the session with Ezra, we go back over to Toriel’s to find that nothing has changed. Asgore won’t bring Frisk back from the Embassy until late, probably, but Chara is still knitting and Asriel and Kalene are outside, playing in the leaves.

Ezra goes to chat with Toriel about parent-things. Chara acknowledges me when I sit on their mother’s chair behind them, but they proceed to ignore me and focus on their knitting.

They have been stuck. I haven’t gotten anything new from them for weeks. I’ve only been treating them for a month, but it’s about time to try a different tactic. I need more information and I can’t make assumptions. It’s hard, because this kid tends to employ many of my favored defense mechanisms and coping techniques. They are quite like me, in both personality and looks, which may have been why Asriel and his parents were all quick to trust me.

Chara hasn’t mentioned it, so I just say it. “Asriel’s been avoiding you, hasn’t he?”

Their needles clack together and their hands freeze. After a moment, they frown and fixed the slipped stitch. “He has, but I don’t blame him,” they say. “I got him killed. Then I killed him _again_ after I killed everyone else.”

“Why do you think he’s avoiding you?”

The frown deepens. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? I know you still have sessions with him multiple times a week.”

It’s more like bantering with a clever adult than a child. “You and Asriel are both stuck,” I say softly. “It’s a common thing that happens. I think, in this case, you need to pull one another out of it. Everything I do will have a muted impact until you two talk.”

“He obviously doesn’t want to talk.”

“Chara, you don’t seem to appreciate sugar-coating. You look unapproachable. Constantly.”

The frown twists into a bitter smile. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Do you feel like you’re ready to talk to him?”

“He’s the one avoiding me. He’s the one who doesn’t want to – and why should he?” The smile is growing. It’s starting to look demented and their voice is slowing down, beginning to sound trancelike. “I manipulated him. He didn’t like it and I could tell, but when he wanted out I wouldn’t let him out. I needed him to feel responsible. I needed him to feel like it was his plan, too, so he’d be more likely to carry it through. It was all my idea and I made him believe it was his choice to participate, but I made him do it. And he fought me too late, didn’t he? I can’t decide whether he wasn’t weak enough to submit fully to me or wasn’t strong enough to stop me sooner. But it doesn’t matter, because it was all on _me_.”

I don’t dare interrupt them. I wait, and when they are done, their cheeks flush and the crazy-looking smile drops off their face. They look back down at their knitting, the yarn looped around their fingers.

I come off the chair to sit in front of them on my knees. They don’t react to my movement. I hold both hands out, palm-up. They have touched me, but only while we were in public and there were other people around.

“I’m grateful you shared this with me, but I can’t absolve you of your guilt.” I speak quietly, gently, because that is what they need right now. “Asriel can’t even do that. Only you can do that. I promise you my help.”

“I don’t know why you would.” Tears overflow in their wide eyes and slip down their expressionless face. “You’ve been treating him and I’m the cause of so many of his problems. I abused him, emotionally. And I—” they choke, “I miss him _so much_.”

“I will be having a similar conversation with him.” As soon as possible. “As for wanting to help you… it would be easy to say that it’s my job or I’m friends with your parents. The real reason is that even though I never wanted kids, the relationships I have with Frisk and Asriel are so fulfilling to me. I’m anticipating something like that happening with you, too, even though it might take longer. I’m not about to presume I know you well after a month, but I was a lot like you when I was close to your age.”

They know what I mean. They were there when I told Frisk. Slowly, they put their knitting down on the floor between us and put their hands over mine.

“I hate humans,” they say, more quietly. They are calm, but their face is still wet.

“Are you ready to tell me why?” I ask.

They inhale, exhale, and inhale again. “I don’t – let’s focus on one thing at a time. Asriel first.”

Hesitant, they scoot forward on their knees. I stay back, wait for them to get their arms around my neck before bringing a hand up to pat their back.

This happens right in time for Asriel and Kalene to walk in the back door, breathless and laughing. Asriel stops dead, shocked, when he glances our way and sees us. Chara, taken off guard, quickly pulls away from me.

Kalene is oblivious. She smiles brightly. “Chara, Isla! My violin is in my dad’s car. Asriel said he wanted to hear me play, do you want to listen too?”

I glance at Chara and they give me the tiniest of nods. “Sure, Kalene,” I reply. “Go ahead and get it. I’m sure your dad and Toriel would love to hear you play, too.”

 

* * *

 

Chara is ready to talk, but I’m not sure about Asriel. When I tell him I noticed he’s been avoiding Chara, he won’t look me in the eye and mumbles something incoherent. I want to talk to him about it, but then Frisk is getting home and it’s almost time for the kids to get ready for bed. Frisk and Asriel have school tomorrow.

I go home and go to bed only to be woken up however many hours later by Sans clumsily trying to cuddle, drunk. Actually, wait. He’s not trying to cuddle, he’s trying to fuck.

“Where were you?” I ask.

“Grillby’s.”

“How much did you have?”

“Not too much.”

He’s right. Last time Papyrus had to go get him. This time he made it home himself. “Sans, this is the fourth time.”

“‘M’fine.”

“You are not fine.”

“‘M’fine.”

“Damnit.” I roll over, am stopped halfway by his haphazard groping, and stretch to turn the lamp on so when I look back at him I can glare at him properly. “You cannot keep doing this.”

His hands still. “Why ‘ot?”

“Because it’s unfair to both of us. I _know_ this isn’t easy for you, but you _have_ to talk to me. You’ve talked to me about the bad timelines before. You’ve _been_ talking to me on and off for over a year, but now you’re trying to drink everything away and you always come home wanting to fuck. We’ve had sex twice in the past three weeks, and both times it was bad. If you need to have more low-quality sex I’ll consent, but I’m telling you straight-up I don’t want to and I’m not doing any work or getting off if you decide to.”

He takes a while to process it, and when he does, he takes his hands off me. “Sorry.”

It’s… almost two-thirty. “Can we please go to sleep?”

He nods and I turn the lamp off. Before I can get settled, I hear his voice. “You’re prioritizing the kid, huh?”

“Kids,” I correct. “I think Frisk is okay, but Asriel isn’t.” I pause. “Sans… you’d know if you talked to me, I’d make time for you too.”

“Yeah, but if it came down to it…”

“They need me a lot more than you do right now. So, yes. I am prioritizing them.”

Silence for a while. Then, “That really sucks, ya know. They killed Tori and my brother and everyone and they did it with a smile on their face and now they’ve got you.”

This is not the optimal time, but he’s talking. I turn towards him. “Do they look like the same kid to you?”

“Yeah. They do.”

“It’s been a month and we’ve seen no violence from them. That’s a fact.”

“I know. I’m not sure it means anything. I just wish I _knew_.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I hate making assumptions, but… I’m pretty sure someone hurt this kid. Badly. Toriel told me as much once. They can’t talk about it, but I’m not sure they will ever get better if they can’t talk about it.”

I wait a long time for his reply. When I don’t get one, I say, “Would it be helpful if I stayed at Toriel’s for a little while? I feel like having to come home to me after I’ve spent all day with Chara isn’t helping you—”

“No.” He grabs my arms, then locks an arm around my waist, pulling me close. “Stay. Please stay. I already feel like I’m losing you. I don’t want that kid to… to take you.”

“I’m making the choice to help them. They aren’t manipulating me into it.”

“They keep looking for me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“They only wanna leave Tori’s to come over here. And they only wanna come over here to look for me.”

I twist around in his grasp. “Why do you think they want to look for you?”

“I don’t _know_.” His voice is devoid of its usual amused lilt. He sounds borderline miserable. “I don’t know, I don’t want to give them the chance to ruin everything, and there’s nothing I can do about it without ruining everything myself.”

I wrap my arms around him. We’re about the same size – I’m a little taller, I’m denser, he’s much wider – but it’s time like these in which he feels so small to me.

I stroke the back of his cervical vertebrae. “Neither of you is going to ruin everything. Please let me do my job, Sans. I’m good at this. You don’t have to be friends with them, but I’m going to get them to a point at which you can be sure they won’t kill somebody at the drop of a hat. And I’ll get you to a place at which you don’t feel like you have to hurt a ten-year-old before they hurt anyone else. Okay?”

He nuzzles into my neck and nods. Sans, like Chara, has a lot of bad habits geared towards survival that are not beneficial or even compatible with the world they are living in now. It’s not over, but I think I just bought myself some time.


	4. Integrity: honest and firm adherence to a code of ethical standards.

“Howdy.” A hand on my arm. Whispering. “Isla? Please wake up.”

I am facing Sans. He is dead asleep. I roll over to see Asriel silhouetted in the sliver of light peeking in through the crack under the door.

“I’m up,” I whisper back, even though I’m not, yet.

He knows the drill. He hands me my glasses. I sit up, stretching, as he exits the room, leaving the door cracked so I can see well enough to follow him. I put a pair of Sans’s shorts on first, since I was just in a T-shirt and my underwear.

By the time I drag myself into the living room and my eyes have adjusted to the lamp, Asriel has a mug of tea steaming in his hands. He hands it to me and sits down next to me.

I take a long drink before speaking. “What happened, Asriel?”

He starts to cry. I forgot how these situations tend to happen back-to-back. Situations in which somebody needs me _right now_. I think I’m lucky Asriel didn’t show up a few hours earlier when Sans wanted to fuck.

This is calm, for Asriel. The tears are thick, sure, but he’s not hyperventilating or even breathing hard. “I h-h-had a nightm-mare.”

I move my tea to one hand and hold my other out. He grasps it and shifts closer to me. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. He used to be so little I could actually pull him on my lap and hold him. His growth spurt started about six months ago, and if his parents’ statures are any indication, it won’t stop until he towers over me. It makes me sad, but I have to remember he couldn’t age when he was Flowey (and neither could his parents) and it must be a relief to him.

“It’s f-fine.” He sniffs loudly, wipes his eyes. “Really. The nightmare w-was generic. I just… usually get in bed with Frisk after I have a nightmare, and…”

Oh. I probably should have seen this coming. “Do you want to sleep with me tonight?”

He nods and rubs the clumped-together fur on his face again. Hopefully Sans will just sleep. He will be mortified if he wakes up and gets handsy again and Asriel is in the bed with us.

“Okay,” I say. “But you’re not done talking yet.”

His face crumples, but he inhales through his nose to try and control the urge to cry. “I kn-know Chara needs Frisk right now. Way more than I do. I know what that’s like, I just…” he sniffs. “I don’t know if I’m _jealous_ , but…”

Asriel always does better with a soft tone, even if what I’m saying is harsh. “Are you feeling left out?”

“Yeah. I mean, I understand it. I know Frisk and Chara have been through a lot together. I know being apart after sharing a body for years must be hard. I know that they need to be around each other all the time right now. It’s just... when Chara lived with us, me and Mom and Dad, they... I was the one they needed all the time, and I guess I’m missing that.”

“Asriel, that’s perfectly normal,” I say. I pause. “Would you give up Frisk if that made everything go back to how it used to be?”

Predictably, he looks horrified. “No, never! How can you even _say_ that!?”

I squeeze his hand to reassure him. “I’m making a point, Asriel. I know that you would never want that. But just because you have something new that you love doesn’t mean you can’t grieve what you have lost. Frisk’s presence has changed and will change your relationship with Chara. You love Frisk and you know that they love Chara and they will be good for Chara, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be sad over what you and Chara had before, when it was just the two of you.”

“Oh.” He looks away from me. “I guess that makes sense.”

That isn’t the end of the problem, though. “You’ve been avoiding Chara. You may be feeling left out, but it truly looks as though you are excluding yourself, Asriel.”

He bites his lip, tearing up again. “I-I just thought I’d save them the trouble. I can’t imagine they’d want to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to see you?”

He looks at me in disbelief, as if the answer to that is obvious. “Because I was the one who… backed out of our plan. I got us both _killed_.”

Generally I don’t break confidence with my patients. I have always used professionalism as a guideline, not a hard rule. “Asriel, Chara feels very guilty about that plan. They blame themself for both your deaths.”

Asriel stares at me, shock widening his eyes. “B-but... I was the one who backed out. If anyone should be feeling guilty, it’s me!”

“Do you?”

“Yes. No.” He looks despondent. “I don’t know. I know not killing those humans was the right thing to do, but... I still feel bad about going back on my word.”

“And that’s okay. But if you’re avoiding one another because you both blame yourself for the same incident...”

“It’s silly. I know.” He slumps back against the couch. He is still sad, yes, but less confused now, and he’s not on-edge. “I should talk to them.”

“Yes,” I agree. “You should. If you want me to be there, I will be. I’m sure Frisk would, too, if you asked them.”

“I know.” He releases my hand, but only so he can hug me. “Thank you, Isla.”

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you came to me and woke me up. That was the right thing to do.”

He rests his head on my shoulder for a moment, then pulls back. “I’m ready to go to bed now.”

“Okay.” I leave my empty mug on the coffee table when we head into the bedroom. I send a quick text to Toriel to let her know Asriel is here. She will see it when she wakes up.

The light from my phone pulls Sans from sleep. He mutters something unintelligible.

I climb on the bed. “Asriel’s here,” I tell him. “He’s sleeping with us tonight.” So don’t wake up and try to stick your hands in my underwear.

Sans murmurs assent and scooches over. Asriel gets in after me, touching my arm with his hand. He still needs physical contact post-nightmare, but I suspect he always will. It’s not a bad need, anyway.

Thankfully, he’s out in less than a minute. I rub my fingers over Sans’s vertebrae until I fall asleep, too.

 

* * *

 

Sans crashes through the next morning, even when I get up and wake Asriel so he can get ready for school. I consider who I can talk to. Usually I talk to Sans when I need to bounce personal matters off of somebody, but this time he is the personal matter. Papyrus is a no because I selfishly like to shelter Papyrus and I can’t talk to him about how gropey his brother’s been lately. Shannon doesn’t exactly understand the gravity of the situation. She thinks Sans has occasional mild depression and she knows nothing about timelines or how all three of these kids remember killing people.

Okay. Partner and siblings are out. Papyrus nor Shannon is particularly good at consistently dispensing good advice, anyway. My next choice would be Asgore – I’m closer to him than I am Toriel, since I’ve worked with him for years – but he can’t be impartial, since he will know Chara is part of the problem even if I try to be vague, and I can’t talk to Toriel for the same reason.

Undyne will just want to punch Sans in the head if I tell her he’s been kind of a clingy ass lately and I can’t tell Alphys and ask her not to tell Undyne. That wouldn’t be fair.

I can’t call Natalie or Spencer because they don’t know Sans well enough to help. That leaves Sans’s friends.

I almost slap myself. Duh.

I go to Grillby’s a little past noon. He lives in one of the apartments above the bar, which isn’t open yet. I know he keeps a late schedule, but when I text him from Sans’s phone, he comes down.

He cocks his head to one side when he sees me there. I show him Sans’s phone. “It’s just me. Sorry for deceiving you. Can we talk?”

I’ve never actually heard Grillby speak. I haven’t interacted with him much, but I know he can communicate verbally, because Sans mentions often enough that Grillby told him this or that.

He nods and lets me in. It’s weird seeing him in casual clothes, since I’ve only ever seen him during bar hours.

He automatically starts making me a drink after I climb up on a stool. “No booze,” I say. “I take most of my heavy meds in the morning. It’s still too early for alcohol.”

He doesn’t add the rum, but he does add something clear out of a prismatically-cut bottle that makes the drink fizz. I sip at it. It’s good.

“So Sans has been getting drunk here often over the past few weeks,” I say. “I don’t want you to stop serving him. If you do, he’ll go somewhere that isn’t as safe.”

Grillby nods. “He’s going through a rough patch right now,” I continue. “But he won’t talk to me about it other than to lament on how afraid he is of a child. He’s not a horny drunk, but he’s come home wanting to bang four times in the past month and we’ve done it twice. I don’t know what he tells you, but that’s a lot of sex for us, and it was _bad_. He initiated it both times, and both times he didn’t seem to enjoy it.”

There is a pause. I know I didn’t misjudge. Grillby is outside our circle of friends. He’s probably Sans’s closest friend after Toriel, but Sans is very private when it comes to things that actually matter. There is a lot he hasn’t told me, let alone Toriel or Grillby.

But alcohol is great at lowering inhibitions. Grillby cocks his head, then – even though there is no visual cue – a deep, but whispery voice comes from the vicinity of his face. “He fears losing everything.”

“His fears can only be assuaged by the death of a child. It’s not happening.”

“He talks about you often after he becomes intoxicated,” Grillby says. “I have never heard him speak so highly of anyone before. He admires you.”

I feel myself flush. I knew that. Even before we were together, I knew Sans had it in his head that I could do or learn anything. That’s obviously an exaggeration. He hasn’t really gotten better about that, either, even though he has taken care of me through physical and mental breakdowns.

Which begs the question: why does he think I can’t make sure Chara – and therefore the rest of us – is okay?

“I love him,” I say. “I just want to figure this out. It hasn’t been good lately, but I’m not about to leave him without trying to fix it.”

“Tell him.”

I drain the rest of the drink. “What?”

“He is afraid of losing you.”

Aw, shit. Yeah, I’m aromantic and I tend to forget about this stuff, but I haven’t told Sans I love him in… weeks. He’s much more insecure about… everything, actually, than I am. He needs to be reassured more often than I even think about our relationship. No wonder he’s been trying to have sex with me every week. Usually it’s on the order of once every five to seven weeks.

I unlock my phone and toss it on the bar in front of him. “I know I do this for a living, but I’m an idiot when it comes to my own interpersonal relationships.” Sans in particular has always been difficult for me. I know now it’s because we had feelings for one another long before we got together. “Thanks for being my sounding board. Do you want to put your number in my phone so I don’t have to steal my partner’s the next time we need to get a hold of each other?”

Grillby is already picking up my phone. Last week when Sans got too drunk, Papyrus was the one who got the phone call. Bypassing Papyrus will be better.

My phone isn’t even warm when he hands it back to me. Part of my brain still questions the apparent disparity, but a bigger part just shrugs and says ‘magic’ and writes it off.

 

* * *

 

Isla relieves Asgore just before Toriel, Asriel, and Frisk get home. Asgore has been watching them while everyone else is at school. Sometimes someone else will come over – usually Undyne or Papyrus – but Toriel and Asgore have tried very hard to make sure at least one of them is with Chara at all times.

It annoys them. They’ve been good, haven’t they? They haven’t even said anything too bad about anyone, let alone hurt anyone. They haven’t uttered a curse word in front of anyone other than Frisk or Isla since their rebirth. They don’t need a babysitter and they really don’t need their adoptive parents freaking out over them when they have been _perfectly fine_.

After Asgore leaves for the Embassy, Chara looks at Isla and says, “I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” she replies. “It’s about making Toriel and Asgore feel better, not about caring for you. Though if you become overwhelmed with the constant company, tell me. Can I see your arms?”

They probably shouldn’t have agreed to start doing this, but they stalled out. They don’t know if there is anything else they can give without delving into that ugliness thrashing around at the back of their mind, but they will never give anyone that. Not if they can help it.

They push their sleeves up so she can inspect their arms. “The company is fine. I thought the point of it was to keep me from hurting myself.”

“That was never my intention.”

Something about this gives them pause. “What would you do if you saw a new scar?”

Isla leans back and Chara pushes their sleeves back down. “I’d ask you about it.”

“You wouldn’t keep me from doing it again?”

“No, I wouldn’t. Not unless I suspected you would kill yourself.”

They are staring at her now, but before they can say anything the front door opens. Chara considers running upstairs so Asriel doesn’t even have to see them, let alone avoid them, but Isla tells them to stay here.

She goes, and returns with Asriel. Chara freezes as Isla guides Asriel to sit across from them on the floor.

“You both think the other wants nothing to do with you,” Isla says. “You’re both wrong. Who wants to start?”

Wait, what? “Chara, I’m—” Asriel’s voice cracks. “I’m so sorry, I said I’d never doubt you and I did, and when I was – when I was Flowey I talked about you in front of Frisk and I didn’t know you could hear, and then when I came back I told Isla and Mom and Dad and everyone else about the plan—”

“Asriel, shut up,” they say. Reassuring him is reflexive. “I don’t blame you for any of that. I should have known better than to expect you to be okay with killing anyone. If I hadn’t made such a stupid assumption, none of that crap would have happened.” They don’t look him in the face. They were ready for this. They were ready for him to reject them, but they aren’t and they never will be ready for that. “I’m the one who should apologize. What I did to you was – inexcusable. And I’m not even talking about what happened in other timelines. I manipulated you into helping me kill myself and I would have turned you into a murderer. I…”

Then they have to stop, because the pressure behind their eyes causes tears to strike burning tracks down their face. It’s fucking embarrassing to start crying before the crybaby, but Asriel is quick to follow suit. He sits up on his knees and crawls forward and holds his arms out and Chara doesn’t even have to think about it before leaning up and pressing themself against him.

“I’m s-so glad you’re here,” he chokes out. “And it s-sucked, but I’m glad all that happened because n-now we’re here on the surface with Frisk and all our fr-friends.”

He used to be the shorter one, but now Chara can press their face into his neck without leaning down. They feel wonderful and terrible at the same time. They fucked up so badly before their death and they can’t even promise not to do it again. They would manipulate Asriel again in a heartbeat if it meant his safety or happiness.

But right now they don’t feel like they have to. He knows them now. He knows they aren’t the greatest person. And that… maybe he doesn’t know the extent of it, maybe nobody does, but he knows they’re not good.

His fur sticks to Chara’s wet face when they pull back. And they’re saying, “I missed you, I love you,” and they aren’t scared to say it first even though they were sure he’d never want to speak to them again.

“I love you t-too,” Asriel chokes out. Even though doing the good or right thing isn’t always going to be an option for them, this has lifted a weight from their existence. It isn’t over yet.

Chara turns their head enough to glance at Isla. She’s scribbling away in her notebook. She smiles when she catches them looking at her.

“Do we want to talk more today, or wait until tomorrow?” she asks. “Today’s goal was to come to an understanding. We’ve managed that.”

Asriel’s arms are still around them and he is showing no signs of pulling away. “I can talk a little more if you can,” he murmurs.

“Me too,” they reply. “But don’t let go quite yet. You’re warm.” And they forgot how good this feels.

 

* * *

 

This is probably a mistake, but Papyrus and Isla aren’t about to let him skip out, and what’s he supposed to tell Toriel, that he wants to avoid her kid? No thanks.

Isla’s been very affectionate over the past couple of days, which is weird. Lots of touching and kissing and telling him she loves him. All the physical contact is a bit uncomfortable, but he’ll never say she says she loves him too much. The part of his mind that fears everything ending or resetting resists it out of an instinct of self-preservation. He thought that part of himself was gone, but Chara’s rebirth woke it back up.

In all honestly, he’d rather everything end than reset. With a reset, he’d remember Isla, but not really. He knows it would drive him crazy. If he could – heh – go back in time and tell his past self he’d fall in love with a human, his past self would never believe it. He wouldn’t blame himself, either.

Everyone ends up at Toriel’s for dinner. Nobody else is awkward. He thought Asriel was avoiding Chara too, but maybe he was wrong. The prince is talking to his sibling every chance he gets. He is on Chara’s other side. Because Chara plopped down next to Sans as soon as he sat his ass down.

The kid keeps looking at him like they expect a conversation from him. He can’t talk to them. He doesn’t trust them not to say something that will make him want to kill them.

So he keeps his attention firmly on Undyne and Papyrus across the table. Their volume makes it easy. Sans encourages it by dropping some wordplay here and there so his brother scolds him.

And Chara eats, and answers Asriel as the prince talks at them almost nonstop, and keeps glancing at him. And he remembers their gaze through Frisk’s eyes, and the cadence of their voice out of Frisk’s mouth, and the dust of their kills in Frisk’s sweater, and he needs to stop right now before his magic flares up.

He helps Toriel clean up the kitchen as Papyrus slams a massive puzzle game down in the center of the table. If he stares at the dishes and lets the monotony of the task relax his mind, he can almost pretend everything is normal. Papyrus and Undyne are excited by the presentation of a competition, even one as trivial as a board game. Asriel is chattering away and every so often Frisk’s voice chimes in to make some quip. The adults are talking, too, Asgore and Alphys and Isla, and he can almost forget the little murderer sitting with his partner and brother and the people he loves. He can already feel his walls go up, his mind tamping down the affection he has for his patchwork family so he won’t be so crushed by a kill or a reset. He makes no effort to stop it.

Sans gets so into the zone scrubbing dishes he doesn’t realize Toriel isn’t in the kitchen anymore until he hears her respond to a question of Asriel’s. He doesn’t notice the kid until they grip onto the counter next to him to peer into the double sink. He was doing so well – he’s almost done, the water is cooling, and the clean dishes are piled up – but his hands just stop.

“Do you need help?” they ask.

Yes, he needs help. Clearly. He is so terrified of this kid he wants to kill them preemptively despite all the other options that have been shoved in his face. How does anyone get better from mass genocide? How does anyone find normalcy after that?

Asriel did, some insistent part of his mind points out. It sounds like Isla. Yeah, Asriel got better, but it almost killed him. Isla was literally with him all day every day for months, and even then he was a mess. Sans doubts Chara’s version of a complete and utter breakdown would be constant sobbing. It would probably involve a lot more dust. Or blood.

They tug on his sleeve. “Do you need help?” they ask again.

He looks at them and he can almost see a bone sticking out of their chest, one end red, dripping, glistening, blood trickling from their mouth. They keep staring at him and it’s like they’re daring him to put it there and he has to look away.

“Nah,” he replies. “I’m fine. Go play.”

They don’t and nobody notices, nobody calls them back. “You’ve been avoiding me,” they say.

Oh no. He is not talking to this kid. “Just tryin’ not to cause trouble,” he says lightly, hoping they understand he means _I’m trying not to kill you because everyone else thinks you can be saved even if we both know better._

Their mouth presses into a thin line. “I wanted… to talk to you.”

They hesitated. Why did they hesitate? “No offense, kid, but you and I aren’t ever gonna be best buddies. You make my friends and my bro happy, and that’s great. Just… don’t bother me, and we won’t have issues.”

Don’t bother him. Don’t kill anyone. Don’t hurt anyone.

Their eyebrows come down. “I’m not bugging you because I want to be _friends_. I don’t de—” they cut themself off, blinking.

Sans doesn’t want to think about where they were going with that. “Then _what_ , kid? You have to know talking to me isn’t a good idea. You have to know I’m on hair-trigger every time I see you.”

They recoil away from him and his tone. “But you’re the only one who can.”

“Can _what_ , kid?” He’s almost snarling.

Their expression hardens. “You’re the only one who can judge me.”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not happening. “You want me to judge you, kid? You don’t want that. I know what you did.”

“ _Everyone_ knows what I did!” they snap out. “I told everyone! I never tried to hide it!”

His hands are clenched into fists and aren’t in the water anymore and his eyesocket is flaring and he knows _just_ where this kid’s soul is and he’s ready to yank it in any direction. “Everyone knows that you stormed through the Underground and slashed everyone to dust on loop.” This kid’s a killer. He knows they are. “I know you have at least one human death on your hands.”

The blood drains from Chara’s face. They back away from him, shaking hands coming up to cover their mouth. It is only now Sans realizes that the talking from around the table has stopped. Everyone is staring at them and everyone heard everything. Damn open floor plans.

Frisk is over here in two seconds flat. They deliberately place themself between Chara and Sans and he finally puts a hand over his crackling eyesocket and slumps back against the sink.

Toriel swoops in, touching both Frisk and Chara on their heads. She turns to him and fire blazes in her eyes. “Sans, you will explain now,” she says. It’s calm, but it’s an order, and it promises retribution should he disobey. “I know you would not make such an accusation without evidence.”

They only ones who aren’t standing are Alphys and Isla. Asgore has a heavy hand on Asriel’s shoulder because Asriel is _pissed_. Between Toriel and Asriel, Sans knows he has to teleport out of here if…

If what? They won’t attack him, even if he deserves it. Not unless he attacks first.

“Tori,” he tries, because he can’t, he can’t tell them. He’s kept it secret for this long. “I know I’m far from unbiased, but trust me on this. The kid has killed another human.”

“You just yelled at one of my children,” Toriel replies. There is heat coming off her hands, he can see the air shimmering above her palms. “You never raise your voice. You are never that hostile. You will tell me, right now, what caused you to behave in this manner.”

Then, slowly, Isla says, “You were in the data dump.”

He breaks out into a sweat. He would have answered Toriel, but Isla is here. She is here and she is too damn smart. “Isla—”

“You saw it when we read their soul,” she continues, expressionless. “And you know what that value means because I have it, too.”

Too late. Every time, he’s too fucking late. “I never wanted you to know.”

“And how long have you known?”

He is reluctant, but he can’t not answer her. “I suspected it as soon as I compared your readings to your friends’. It was only more obvious the more data we had.”

Her eyes darken and her eyebrows pull together. She clenches her jaw and stands. Walks right by him to check on Chara, who has latched onto Frisk and will not let go nor respond to Isla when she calls their name.

Isla turns to face him and he is abruptly terrified. This is it, isn’t it? This is where she realizes she doesn’t need him or the crap he brings with him.

She looks furious but she speaks softly. “The truth of the matter is irrelevant. This is information Chara has not revealed to me during sessions, Sans. That means they weren’t ready to talk about it. They weren’t ready to process it. And you _know_ how traumatizing it can be to kill somebody.”

Two years ago Calder exposed Isla’s kill on national television. She stood up and so did Sans and he caught her because she thought she was riddled with bullets, she thought she was bleeding out. He just did to Chara what Calder did to Isla, but it’s _different_ , right? It’s different because Isla never killed anyone again, but Chara did, they destroyed the entire _world_. Repeatedly. It’s different because the kid’s a damn safety hazard, they’re a threat to everyone around them.

But he still has a big mouth, he still practically shouted it out for everyone to hear. He never wanted to have this conversation with Isla. That was why he recommended Alphys update the lab’s data-collection program. He wanted the data dump. He thought that if Isla couldn’t see that value, she would never realize what it was.

And this is just the latest of his many mistakes. “Isla, I’m—”

“I’m not the one you owe an apology,” she interrupts. “But, seeing as Chara is incapacitated right now, there is no point. You are coming home with me, now. We are having a conversation.”

So they go. Sans catches a glimpse of Papyrus’s anxiously disappointed expression. It’s better than his dust.

Just like that, it clicks into place. What they think of him doesn’t matter, as long as they are safe. As long as he protects them it doesn’t matter if they hate him.

Isla doesn’t stop once they get inside. She goes upstairs and into their room. She takes a bag from their closet and he barely feels a twinge in his chest.

“I’m not dumping you,” she says calmly. “I need a break. I need to focus on treating Chara. I’m going to be sleeping elsewhere for a while.”

He can’t think of anything to say other than, “I never wanted you to know. I’m sorry you found out like that.”

Her brow furrows. “Sans… that isn’t the problem. My kill impacted me so deeply I’d be surprised if it hadn’t left a mark on my soul. This is about Chara.”

It’s always been about the kid. Since they came back, it’s been about them. “Do you understand why I’m worried about you now?” he asks, and yeah, he sounds desperate because he is. “They’ll readily admit they hate humans and they’ve killed one. Then you go over there and poke and prod at their fears and their pain. Is it so off the mark to think they might lash out at you?”

“No. It’s always a possibility. But I’m telling you I can handle it, and you don’t trust me to handle it.”

“It’s not you, it’s them. They… I can’t even begin to describe to you how their soul was when they were cranked on LOVE and EXP. And Frisk, too. They claimed it was their fault, that they took over. They basically killed Frisk in those timelines too.”

Isla sighs, closes her eyes. “What can this kid do to get you to trust they won’t hurt anyone?”

He thinks about it. And comes up with nothing. How can they not be dangerous, after all they’ve done? And even if they’re not, Frisk doesn’t know if they can reset, and if there’s a miniscule _chance_ that Chara might screw everything up… “I don’t know.”

“Sans. I love you, but this is unacceptable.”

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if everyone hates him. Their safety matters. He can ensure their safety. That does not require their love.

If he says and does nothing, eventually everyone will become relaxed. He can’t really do anything right now – he hasn’t figured out what he _can_ do – but he can keep reminding everyone of the potential danger this child poses, even if they grow to hate him for it. If he keeps talking, the possibility will be in their minds, and at least they will stay on their toes.

Sans shrugs, calmer, less afraid. Resigned. Resigned is familiar. “I’m sorry.”

Isla frowns. “I’m sorry, too. You cannot go anywhere near Chara. I will see you during the day, but I’m not sleeping here. We’ll try to talk when we have time.”

This might be the beginning of the end. They gave it a shot. They all gave it a shot. “I’m sorry,” he says again, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I love you.” Even if he earns everyone’s hate in the near future.


	5. Justice: fairness and conformity to facts, truth, and sound reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now might be a good time to review the tags. Keep them in mind for next chapter, too.

Alphys and Undyne have been sent home. I have to spend ten minutes reassuring Papyrus before he’s willing to go home, too. Toriel says of course I can stay here and insists that Asgore stay the night too (without really insisting – it’s a very casual request and he agrees without appearing to think about it). Asriel pipes up and says I can sleep with him. He looks desperate. Chara is not the only one who was overwhelmed by this.

They have recovered to the point of awareness. They aren’t clinging to Frisk anymore and their body language indicates a powerful urge to maintain their personal space.

I tell Chara they will not be seeing Sans for a little while. I expect relief, but they protest.

“I _want_ to talk to him,” they say. “It’s his right to be hostile.”

“No, Chara, it is not,” Toriel replies firmly. “Sans is an adult. You are ten years old. Under no circumstances should he have scared you like that.”

“I can think of plenty,” Chara shoots back. They look at me. “You didn’t dump him, did you? You can’t punish him for this. He’s _right_ , you know.”

Asriel shrinks in on himself and grabs onto his father for comfort. Asgore pats his son’s head.

“We know he’s right about you killing somebody,” I reply simply. “And no, I didn’t dump him. I’m just going to be staying here for a little while.”

“Then _why_ don’t any of you get it?” Chara’s volume is climbing. “I killed a human, I killed myself, I got Asriel killed, I killed off a substantial portion of the monster population, I _destroyed the whole world._ What will it take to convince you that I’m no good!?”

They say it, but their voice wavers. This isn’t new, but it is the first time they have done more than hinted at their damaged self-image. Softly, I say, “Chara, you are displaying remorse.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” they scream suddenly, face flushing. “Saying you’re _sorry_ doesn’t do a thing to help anyone you’ve hurt! Saying you didn’t _mean_ to hurt somebody doesn’t mean a fucking thing!”

Asriel starts to cry. Frisk approaches Chara, spreading their arms. “Chara—”

“NO, Frisk!” They take a step back, voice cracking and following Asriel’s example. “I know you w-wanted me like this so I could s-s-see everyone, but I’m n-no good for you or anyone else. I’ll just end up hurting y-you.”

Frisk’s face crumples and then we’ve got three crying kids. Asgore already has Asriel, so Toriel approaches Frisk and Chara. Chara steps back away from her, but Frisk goes to her and lets her envelope them in a hug.

I beckon Chara. They don’t like being touched in the first place; when they get stressed or upset, they can hardly stand it. “Can you follow me?” I ask.

I take a few steps and they do follow me, even with their head hung and their hands covering their face. I grab my bag and slide open the back door for them.

It’s November, so the sun is down by five and it’s cold now, even though it was only a little chilly during the day. Chara is wearing a big sweater and I’ve got a hoodie on, so we should be alright. We aren’t going to be out here long.

Chara stands in the middle of the deck. I shut the door and ask them to follow me again. I sit on the top deck stair. They drag their feet, but they get here, and after some hesitation, they seat themself next to me. Our main source of light is what is on inside the house. It’s cloudy, so we can’t see the stars or moon.

I set my bag down in front of me and pull out my first aid kit. It’s catered to me and my issues with autoimmunity and pain, so it is far from standard.

“Chara,” I say. “Can you look at me? I know it might be hard right now, but I need to make sure you’re there.”

Their head tilts. This kid is sensitive to their environment. I get like that sometimes, especially with noises, but their issues with overstimulation are a daily battle. I figured outside in the dark there would be fewer things to look at, fewer sounds, and no people. We live in a residential area, so typically after dark everyone is inside their homes.

They peek at me. Their gaze focuses on my first aid kit. Despite the tear tracks on their face, they frown.

I open my first aid kit and pull out two scalpel blades: a size ten and an eleven.

“I have a knife, too, though I would recommend the scalpels,” I say. “When you’re talking people, knives are for stabbing, scalpels are for cutting. One is a thinner blade than the other. Which do you want?”

They stare at me. “Are you joking?” they rasp out.

“After you calm down, we’re going to go inside and talk to Toriel and Asgore about why you should be allowed to do this when you need to. Then I’m going to talk to Frisk and Asriel about it.” I pause. Am I assuming too much? “Do you need to do this, right now? Will it help?”

“Why do you want me to?” More force this time, more accusing. “Why do you want me to – cut myself?”

“I don’t _want_ you to. I know your brain is presenting you with extremely limited options right now. I am providing you with another. Taking it is up to you.”

They stare some more. Finally their red gaze drops. “Can I try both?” they whisper.

I peel the ten from its packaging and place it in the handle. They are already pulling their right sleeve up.

I bite the inside of my cheek, hard. I do have doubts, but I think this is the right thing to do. “Show me where.”

They point to a spot on their dorsal forearm, closer to their elbow than their hand. “How long?” I ask.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Chara replies. “Probably not even an inch.”

“And how deep?”

“Not deep. Not if I do two. You have bandages?”

“Yes. And don’t worry about how anyone else will react. I’ll handle it.”

They reach a shaking hand out to take the scalpel from me. When they put it to their arm, the urge to grab them and take it from them almost overpowers me. I force it down. They would never trust me again if I did that.

They do it precisely as they said they would. Blood wells up on their arm and they inhale, exhale, then their breathing slows down and some of the tension goes out of their body.

I hold my hand out. They carefully place the scalpel in my palm. They aren’t shaking so badly any more.

“The other is a thinner blade,” I say quietly. “It cuts much more easily. Do you still want it?”

They have stopped crying. They nod.

I replace the ten with the eleven and hand it back to them. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“Same thing,” they reply. Their voice is a little hoarse. “A bit below the first. That way I can cover both up with one bandage.”

“And you’re not going to press as hard.”

“Yes.”

I make myself watch them. This is harder than I thought it would be. Allowing Chara to self-harm was one of the first options I considered, but until now, it didn’t seem necessary.

I take the scalpel from them. They have stopped crying and their expression is slack. The emotion in their unblinking eyes is dull. I get alcohol wipes and gauze out.

“Do you want me to do it?” I ask. They nod. “You’re sure you’re okay with me touching you now?”

They wordlessly offer me their bloody arm. I clean it before layering gauze over the lacerations. They aren’t bad. Just by looking at their arm I can tell they have hurt themself much worse.

As I’m sticking strips of paper tape to them, I say, “So what is it? The blood, the pain, or the self-punishment?”

They shrug. I don’t want to upset them after Sans exposed them the way he did, but this may be the most pliant they get. “Chara, why do you want to talk to Sans?”

Their eyes come back into focus. “He has to judge me.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

“It was his job. He judges and punishes those he finds unworthy. Everyone is telling me I deserve this second chance. I won’t believe it until _he_ says it.”

Oh. This is not good. “Chara, Sans is just a person. He… isn’t exactly impartial when it comes to you. He may even have a grudge.”

“That’s the point. He already hates me. He knows what I am actually like.”

I’ve known Chara had psychological issues for years. Treating Asriel made it obvious those issues were serious and the way they behaved after their rebirth only reinforced that. At this point I heavily suspect they came from a shitty home situation before they went to the Underground, but we haven’t even touched that yet. Talking to Asriel was a step forward, but I had no idea they had this strange fixation on Sans, too. I assumed they would want to avoid Sans, just as he wanted to avoid them.

“Sans…” I hesitate. Have to break the news as delicately as possible. “Sans had his mind made up as soon as he understood you took control in other timelines. He can’t judge you fairly, Chara. He can’t give you what you want. I’m sorry.”

They don’t react at all. They are perfectly calm. The cutting was supposed to calm them down enough so I could get some answers out of them – and I have, even though I don’t know where to go from here – but it totally nuked their emotional response. I probably shouldn’t have allowed them the second one.

I stand. “Let’s go inside. We should talk to Toriel and Asgore while you’re numbed out.”

 

* * *

 

Sleep sounds like a great idea right up until the moment Sans remembers he’s going to be sleeping alone indefinitely.

Papyrus tries too hard to help. “We could have a sleepover!!” he declares. “We will tell each other stories and eat sleepover spaghetti and perhaps build a blanket fort!!”

Just agree passively. That’s all he has to do. Just go along with it and Papyrus will do all the work.

Instead, he says, “Paps, I’m sorry,” because Papyrus will probably never hate him, even if he should.

His brother gives him a rare frown. He doesn’t reply so quickly and when he does, it isn’t at his usual volume. “Brother, I… don’t fully understand what happened between you and the tiny human. I do not think you should have yelled at them. That seemed… cruel. But I know you and I know you must have been feeling bad for a long time to do something like that. So… while Isla helps the tiny human, I will help you!! When everyone feels better, everyone can be friends, and Isla can come back here and be your datefriend and my sisterfriend again!!”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen, bro.”

The frown deepens. “Sans…”

Where the hell did his resolve go? He was so – so _determined_ to not let the kid hurt anyone not even an hour ago and now his attention can’t reach past the fog settling into his head. He probably won’t blame Toriel and Asgore if they never speak to him again. Not many people can just sit back and watch their family be threatened and killed. Just him.

Papyrus comes over to him and rests his hands on Sans’s slumped shoulders. “Sans, it’s going to be okay. I promise. Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?”

Papyrus is too damn good for him. Papyrus has always been too damn good for him. Sans has always been inadequate for the people who, for some reason, care about him. He still doesn’t know how he managed to get Isla. She has always been insanely out of his league.

He doesn’t want to waste Papyrus’s time, but he knows his brother will fret if Sans doesn’t allow him to do something to help him feel better. So he says, “Sure, Pap. I’d like that a lot.”

 

* * *

 

Frisk is already upstairs when we go back inside, so we send Asriel up to join them. Neither Toriel nor Asgore reacts well when I tell them. Toriel wants to heal Chara, but they aren’t ready for physical contact quite yet.

It takes a lot of explaining. I have to say I can’t just prescribe meds in lieu of cutting because there is more to cutting than just emotional regulation. I talk about how maladaptive coping means the individual is at least trying to cope, whereas distraction and denial is taking a step back because the problem doesn’t go away when someone chooses to stop acknowledging it. I remind them that I abuse my pain meds occasionally – that is something I chose for myself, something I still choose for myself.

I know it’s extremely unconventional. I’m basically suggesting I prescribe self-harm, but it’s obviously better than forbidding Chara from it, because I bet they would do it secretly.

Chara verbally agrees with me on that, which is what convinces Toriel and Asgore to try it and see how it goes. Toriel says that she won’t insist they be magically healed as long as the wound is mild and treated properly.

After we are done, Chara wants to crawl in bed with Frisk, so we talk to Frisk about it. They are the most understanding, I think. They know Chara the best of everyone – sharing a head will do that…

They might know what the underlying issues are. So I ask Chara if Frisk knows whatever it is that they can’t bear to talk about and if they would be okay with Frisk informing me. Sometimes people just can’t talk about it but after they manage to communicate with someone else, they recover without issue. Sometimes people can’t talk about it because they don’t want others to know about it.

Unfortunately, Chara is in the latter group. Frisk knows some things, but they don’t want Frisk telling anyone. They don’t even want to discuss it with Frisk. It’s a mess because I have no idea how this problem interrelates with their desire for Sans’s acknowledgment, if it does at all.

Asriel and Chara are interacting now, but they still tread very carefully around one another. This is why Asriel waits until after Frisk and Chara go to bed to ask me if Chara is okay.

I’m brushing my teeth, so I spit and rinse. “I don’t think they’ve been okay since long before you met them, Asriel.”

“I know, but…” God, he’s so worried. “But… they won’t try to… hurt themself… right?”

I take my contacts out and put my glasses on. “I do not believe they will try to kill themself. I just allowed them to cut themself, so I don’t think they will do it again anytime soon.”

“ _What?_ You – what? You _let_ them?”

“It’s a treatment strategy. I doubt anything else will—”

“How could you do that!?” he bursts out. “You were supposed to _help_!”

Ah, shit. I turn toward him. He’s bristling, fur poofed out, fangs bared, hands flexed in a way that could prelude magic use or punching. I look around for something for him to hit, but it’s the bathroom so I come up short.

I hold my hands in front of me, palm-down. “I understand why you’re upset. Chara—”

“Chara doesn’t know what’s best for them! They never did! B-but you were supposed to know, you were supposed to m-make them better—”

He’s rage-crying, so I go to him because physical contact tends to calm him. This is a mistake. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me against the doorframe – not hard, but his grip is way too strong and his claws are definitely doing damage and one of his fingers is digging into my neck so hard he’s probably cutting off blood flow.

My energy goes into repressing the automatic urge to knee him in the crotch and beat him down to the floor. I cannot do that to him. I absolutely cannot. I don’t think to say something quickly enough, and then he’s yelling. “You weren’t there, I was, you didn’t see them scarf those buttercups down like they were their salvation—”

I’m tapping one of his hands. “Strength control. Strength control, Asriel.”

He stops, looks at his hands like they aren’t attached to him, and gets out of my face. He is almost thirteen, almost five-and-a-half feet tall, and already inhumanly strong. He probably could have broken my clavicle if he squeezed hard enough.

My T-shirt is grey. I wish it were black. Black would disguise the little dots of blood over the puncture wounds.

As the anger melts out of him, Asriel starts crying harder. Asgore, Toriel, and Frisk show up to investigate the yelling (apparently Chara slept through it) and they all want to help. I tell them to leave, I’ve got it. Toriel and Asgore believe me and go, but only because I’m also Asriel’s therapist and better than anyone else at dealing with him when he becomes overwhelmed. And maybe because they don’t notice the blood.

Frisk, on the other hand, sees the blood. They look at Asriel, then at me.

“It was honestly an accident,” I say. “You should go back to bed. If Chara wakes up, they will want you there.”

Frisk nods tiredly, hugs Asriel, and goes.

He is unable to calm down until he heals me, which takes several tries because he can’t focus. When he is done, he sinks to his knees, resting his clenched hands on the floor in front of him. “I’m—” he chokes instantly. “I’m s-s-so sorry, I-I… I’m—”

He’s about to insult himself. “You lost your temper,” I say calmly.

“B-b-but I’ve never h-hurt anyone before—”

I hold my hands out. “Stand up.”

He takes them and stands, head hanging. I pull him into a hug. “It’s okay, Asriel. We knew this was coming, and this is one of the best ways it could have happened. I assure you, the pain was minimal. What do you think we should do next?”

He slowly brings trembling hands up to my back. “I need to start w-working on it.”

“Yes, you do. You’re allowed to be angry. We need to find better ways for you to express that anger.”

“But you need to help Chara.” A pause. The pressure on my back increases. “Are – are you _sure_ that l-letting them… letting them hurt themself will help?”

I step back so I can look him in the face. “No. I’m not sure. But of what I can think of to try, this was the most logical next step.”

He stares at the floor. I miss the days when he was little and… yeah, I do miss it when he was more dependent on me, but I’d have to be a massive asshole to hinder his recovery because of that. He’s better now. He has some new issues, some of his problems have taken on other forms, but overall, he’s better.

“I don’t like it, either,” I admit. “So I wouldn’t try it if I didn’t think there was a chance it could work.”

Asriel inhales deeply, then exhales. “Alright.”

“You go to bed,” I tell him. “Can I tell your parents about this?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“I’ll finish up here, talk to them, and then I’ll come to bed. Alright?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Unfortunately, when I descend the stairs, I see Toriel and Asgore sitting on the sectional, having a murmured conversation. I think they are holding hands, so I turn around and very quietly go back upstairs.

 

* * *

 

It gets worse.

Every damn night they go to bed wondering why they haven’t killed themself, and the handful of answers they come up with are, in order of importance: they can take a fatal hit for a monster, they can kill a shitty human or two or ten if it comes down to it, they don’t think they can put Toriel and Asgore and Asriel through that again or put Frisk through it at all, and there is a miniscule chance that Sans might judge them and whether he kills them or declares them worthy, it doesn’t matter after that.

Every day they get up and Frisk is worried, Asriel is worried, Asgore and Toriel are worried, Isla keeps knocking at the walls they erected around their memories, and Undyne and Papyrus are far too exuberant when they come over and attempt to force them to have fun.

Chara mostly sees Alphys when they go to the lab to get their soul scanned. Their brightness continually decreases. Isla always exchanges a few words with Alphys and they leave and Isla never says anything to anyone else about it and neither does Chara.

They don’t see Sans again and they can’t tell when Isla speaks to him. They know she does, but she gives zero hints as to what she feels following that.

She lets them keep cutting themself. It’s… different with someone watching and… approving, almost. It doesn’t quite do for them what it used to, though they suppose there might just be a time limit people are allowed to cage stuff before the bars rot and the bad shit escapes and wrecks their brain. Between the hundreds (thousands?) of timelines and how long they lived with the royal family Underground, it feels like it’s been so long since they decided to forget that crap.

Asriel told them he’s been talking to Isla about ten hours a week spread out over four or five days. He’s different, too. He’s still a crybaby, but he’s angrier and more assertive than he used to be. He… is more distant from them than he used to be, but that can only be their fault. He seems closer to Frisk than he is to Chara, but Chara knows how that is. Frisk is so understanding and accepting it is hard not to get drawn in. They certainly did during this timeline.

They can’t afford to fuck up. This timeline looks to be permanent. Before their separation, Frisk said they felt like RESETting would be difficult, but now it feels impossible to both of them. Chara has not noticed the other, either. Whatever they are doing, they aren’t dabbling in timelines anymore.

They can’t afford to fuck up but they keep doing it. It’s a simple cost-benefit analysis. They know there are a few good things they could do, and those possibilities are the reasons they get up in the morning.

But they have to consider the negative impacts of their presence. The worrying everyone is doing. The glances Asriel keeps stealing at their arms, even though he can’t see the bandages because they’ve been wearing long sleeves. Waking Frisk up multiple times a night and needing to scoot away from them so they aren’t touching anymore. Cutting themself in front of Isla and still being unable to talk to her. And she’s sleeping here, not at home, not with Sans. Chara needs him to judge them and he _won’t_ and why should he, anyway, when their very existence fucked up his relationship.

It is obvious. There is no point to denial. These are the people who love them, the people they love, and their presence in their lives is doing more harm than good. They have to excise themself.

Chara won’t kill themself again. Not… not yet. Not until they have exhausted all other options. They have to leave.

 

* * *

 

November drags on into December. Chara comes to a standstill. They retract, repress, and go about their day on autopilot. Their expressions are mechanical. Their soul’s brightness falls and continues to fall until it begins to take grey tones.

Asriel isn’t much better. There is almost no point in working on his anger issues when he is constantly worried about his adoptive sibling. He can’t focus on himself and he believes that Chara needs to be with me all day every day for them to get better because that was what worked for him. Chara does not need company all the time. They could probably do with less company than they are getting now, but I don’t only have them to think about. Frisk is better at hiding their emotions than the monsters in their family, including Toriel, but I know even they are worried sick.

I don’t see Sans at all the third week of December and I don’t even realize it because Chara has stopped mentioning him. He has another depressive episode and Papyrus begs me to come over.

Chara overhears and tells me to go. I couldn’t say no, anyway, and I’m an ass for not seeing this coming.

I walk into my room. There is a meow, and when I turn the lights on Bean is perched on the pillow next to Sans’s head.

The skeleton groans and puts his hands over his eyesockets. “Paps is overreactin’. I’m fine.”

“Congrats, you just broke the record for denial.” I pull back the covers. He’s wearing one of my big ratty T-shirts. “Move over.”

“Wait.” He holds his hands up. “I don’t… I won’t want you to leave. So… don’t stay.”

Ouch. That hurt. I stand there for a moment, unsure and awkward. My cat meows. “So why haven’t you gotten up yet?”

“I’m just tired.”

He offers nothing else. “I miss you.”

“I dunno what to say.”

I sit on the edge of the bed. “Is it me that has you feeling like this?”

There is a pause. Then he says, “No. Think I’m bracin’ myself.”

I reach for him, fingers tracing along his skull. “Sans, the only person Chara has harmed since they came back is themself.”

“Talkin’ about them isn’t gonna accomplish anything.”

“I don’t know what else to do with them. The only thing I can think of is to ask if you’d be willing to speak with them.”

“You said I wasn’t allowed near them.”

“I know, but you’re both getting worse. I’ve tried letting Chara self-harm, Sans. I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here.”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sans has not seen anyone aside from Papyrus and Alphys in over a week. Like Chara, he has secluded himself and won’t respond to any attempts I make at treatment. I… haven’t exactly communicated to Toriel and Asgore just how little progress I’ve made with Chara recently. I told Frisk and Asriel, though I was a bit vaguer with Asriel.

It’s like trying to treat Flowey all those years ago. Nothing is working. I have patiently proceeded through every technique I thought had the slightest chance of helping. I have even told Chara, at length, about my own struggles with PTSD. I really, really, don’t want to make Frisk feel like they have to tell me what they know, but our viable options are narrowing.

Really, it’s worse than treating Flowey. I’ve had to give up Sans. I thought it was going to be temporary, but… I don’t know if there is any recovering from this. It’s not just about me, either; I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to be best buddies with Toriel again. And Frisk has made it obvious that if they are forced to choose sides, they will protect Chara.

Damnit. I miss him. I miss his crappy jokes and dicking around together and our shared fun, childish interests. This, right now, isn’t him, it’s the depression. I know I should be taking care of him, but I can see a breaking point coming, and if things continue as is I’m going to get sick because I’m putting too much on myself.

“Sans,” I say, and I realize my vision is blurry.

Yeah, we’re both immature assholes, yeah, our relationship is deviant and not all that romantic, but we do have moments in which we are very much in sync. We both reach for one another at the same time, and then we are kissing fiercely (as much as we can, anyway), and then I am scrambling on top of him, and then we are both pulling at clothes and getting nowhere because we’re both doing it, and—

And my phone goes off and I can’t really afford not to check it. “Sorry,” I whisper, pulling back. I sit back on my heels, trying to negotiate the folds of my sweatpants around Sans’s grip on my thigh.

His pupils are dilated. “Who’s the cockblocker?”

I grasp my phone. “Asriel,” I reply. “This... will probably have to be put on hold.”

Sans groans. I pick up. “Hel—”

Before I can get anything out, Asriel starts babbling incoherently, bawling. I can’t understand a thing. “Asriel,” I say loudly. “Asriel, I can’t understand you. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“I’m a-a-at home,” he chokes out. “Where’re y-you, p-p-please tell me you’ve g-got Chara and you t-took them on a hiking trip o-o-or something—”

What? I slide off Sans, off our bed. “Asriel, stay put. I’m coming over there right now.”

I hang up before he can reply. Sans looks more awake. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I think I fucked up. I need to leave right now.”

He throws the blankets off him. “I’m coming too.”

I don’t feel like I have the grounds to protest, since a few minutes ago I was suggesting that he talk to Chara. I run next door, taking the stairs four at a time, and Sans is already opening Toriel’s front door. I manage not to fall on my face on the snow and ice.

Asriel’s a fucking mess. He is standing, pacing, one hand holding his head in the way that indicates he has one of those nasty headaches from his horns coming in and the other crossed in front of him, digging into his opposite bicep so hard I bet he’s drawing dust.

Sans stops in the doorway, unsure, but I hurry into the kitchen and get into the freezer to get an icepack out. When I return to the entryway I bat Asriel’s hand out of the way and hold it on top of his head. “Why are you home?”

At the same time, he frantically asks, “Where’s Chara?”

“You need to calm down. You can’t help anyone like this.” I peel his grip off his arm to get his claws free. “Why are you home?”

He makes an effort to control his breathing. “I g-got a headache and M-Mom told me I could go h-h-home. She said y-you were here, where w-were you?”

“I was next door. I last saw Chara about half an hour ago. Are they not here?”

“N-no, I looked for them and – a-and their boots and coat and a backpack are m-missing, they’re not here—”

Shit. I did fuck up. He’s beginning to panic again, so I pull him into a hug. “Asriel, I need you to calm down. I promise we’ll find them, but you have to be clear-headed if you’re going to help me look. Okay? Breathe with me.”

He starts to, but then he holds his breath. Just as I open my mouth to ask him about it, he speaks. “Sans is gone.”

Flat tone with a hint of surprise. He’s definitely not crying anymore. I pull back and turn around. He’s right.

“You came over here with Sans, right?” Asriel asks. “I wasn’t imagining that.”

Oh _shit_. This can’t be good. “No, you weren’t.”

“But – what if he finds Chara before we do?”

He probably already has. “Then I hope he makes some good decisions.”

 

* * *

 

Going through New Home was out of the question. Some monsters still live down there and humans tour the Underground now. Chara doubts the tours run in the winter (it was hard enough for them to climb the mountain, let alone a bunch of entitled, lazy human adults) but they must avoid being recognized at all costs.

That leaves the vertical entrance into the Underground. Frisk said the Ruins are deserted now and nobody ever goes that far because nobody wants to walk through Snowdin forest. Chara won’t have to interact with anyone. They can’t fuck anyone else up if it’s just them, right?

There… should still be flowers down there. If there is not… well. They can’t bring themself to care.

The cave is in sight. They hurry towards it. And then they stop dead, because someone appears in their way.

“Heya, kid. Goin’ somewhere?”


	6. Kindness: concern and care for those in need without the expectation of recompense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TAGS. Think about EVERYTHING the tags encompass before proceeding. Shit gets Real Heavy up in here. This is Not Fun.

They look surprised to see him. There is nothing in their hands. No knife. They aren’t wearing gloves, either, and part of Sans feels like he should rectify that because the kid’s hands have to be cold and Toriel would worry about that, but that other part wonders whether someone as cold as them is affected by this weather.

The surprise is replaced by a frown. “You don’t need to worry. I am not going back. I will stay in the Underground. Go home and don’t say anything.”

He can’t see what comes next. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he knows this ends here.

“Don’t think I can do that, kid.”

They stare at him without blinking. “Are you going to kill me?”

He says nothing because he doesn’t _know_. They were – so much more predictable Underground. They killed and killed and they killed _Papyrus_ and Sans waited in the same spot, the world’s last line of defense because he knew their big softie king would feel so bad about fighting even a murderous child that he’d never last against them. Sans doesn’t make decisions. He always looked at their soul and their face and whatever he said or did was a direct result of what he saw. He took their input and gave them an output.

“It is not a big deal,” Chara says. “The Fall might kill me, anyway. There is always a chance. And even if it doesn’t, you will not ever have to see me again.”

They try to go around him and Sans automatically sidesteps into their path. They stop ten feet from him. Their fists clench and they start to tremble. “What the fuck’s your problem?” they demand. “Get out of my way.”

He felt screwed because losing Chara would devastate their family, so he couldn’t take them out of the picture. Despite how he feels about them, he loves their family. His partner was advocating alternative solutions, even encouraging him to be a part of it, but he couldn’t see it. He spent the time loops refusing to consider a future because it was less painful when it was repeatedly ripped away from him. He spent so long not allowing himself to look ahead and now he’s bad at it.

And now they are trying to take themself out of the picture. He could step aside, pretend he never saw them here. They’re giving him what he wants, aren’t they?

“Get out of my way,” Chara repeats, louder this time.

Aren’t they?

“I can’t do that, kid,” comes out of his mouth.

Their face flushes. They spread their arms. “Then get on with it.”

“I ain’t gonna kill ya, either.”

Their hands clench again. They widen their stance. “Sans, get the fuck out of my way.”

“So you can throw yourself down this hole?” Why is he arguing with this kid?

“Yes!” they scream, taking two steps forward. “There is nobody down there I can ruin, so _move_!”

“Your family—”

“I _hate_ that word! Everyone will be better off without me. You know that’s true. You know _me_! You’re the only one!”

“I don’t know you.”

Their jaw sets. “Get the fuck out of my way. I will hurt you.”

“Kid, you don’t have EXP. No LV.”

“I killed a _human_.”

“And until I know why, I can’t judge you.”

They open their mouth, but their response dies. Their eyes widen. “What?”

He stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. “It wasn’t gonna stop, was it. You were just gettin’ worse and worse. Now you’re running away because, what, you don’t want to inflict yourself on the people you love? Trust me, kid. It… won’t work.”

“You—”

“Leaving, trying to hide it… none of that shit works. But you said you wanted me to judge you. Do you really think it will help you?”

“I—” they pause, swallow. “Yes. But only if you promise to kill me if… if that is what you judge.”

“Sure. Sure thing.” He closes his eyesockets. “The only mark on your soul is your human kill.”

“But I—”

Sans opens his eyesockets. “I know what you did in the other timelines. I know what Frisk and I did in other timelines. That’s… even if I’m not over it, even if those of us who can sorta remember aren’t over it, it didn’t happen. If I’m gonna judge you for that I should judge Frisk and myself too.”

They don’t protest this. They stare at him, waiting.

“So…” he continues. “It’s only your human kill. And… I need to know why.”

They wrinkle their nose, mouth curling. “No, you don’t. Just judge me.”

“I can’t. Not unless I know why you killed that human.”

“But… why?”

Are they really missing this? “Isla has the same mark on her soul. She killed somebody who almost killed her, who had already killed eight others and was on his way to kill more.”

“So… so you’re going to judge if my reason was good enough? Even with you, the judge, people can hurt others as long as their _reason_ for hurting them is _good enough_!?”

He… never thought of it like that. And they’re right.

Sans can only shrug. “Complicated world, kid. I don’t understand it. I’m judging what options you took relative to those that were available to you.”

“You don’t _need_ to know. I’m bad, you know _that_ , so why do you need to know anything else?”

“Kid, I _told_ you why—”

“The human I killed was a massive piece of _shit_ , does that help!?”

He holds his hands up. “Kid, I—”

Chara storms up to him and shoves him. He steps back, mind stuttering to a stop because he’s going to dust, it only takes one hit to dust him—

“You wanna know why I killed that asshole!?” they scream.

They pound a fist into his sternum and it should be so, so easy to sidestep because _how_ many times did he do it while they were hacking at him with a knife, but his feet only move to adjust his weight as he absorbs the first strike, the second, even though the first should have killed him—

“I killed the bastard—” Chara hits him again, “—because I knew he’d be drunk and slow and _stupid—_ ” again, with less force, “—because he _always was_ after he was done _fucking me_!”

Their fists are nothing; he barely feels them anymore. He can’t think, can’t do anything but stand here.

“He wasn’t the only one, either!” they scream. Their voice starts to crack, sobs wrenching from them; they hunch over and suddenly seem so, so small. “He w-was the only one I killed, but he wasn’t the only one w-who – who—”

They are hyperventilating and tears are streaming down their face. They rest their forehead and trembling fists against his chest. It occurs to him that he isn’t going to dust. He probably would have noticed by now, right? So… if he’s not going to dust, then… they have no killing intent towards him.

Once he understands fully, he feels something die inside him. But what did he expect? He knew, coming out of the Underground, that the human world would be worse. What kind of place produces kids so fucked up they think killing everyone around them is the answer?

It’s snowing again and cold and grey and this kid’s hands are going to freeze and now their face will, too, since they’re crying. He can’t believe he once thought hearing this kid cry would help him solve anything. It’s doing nothing other than making him sad.

“Kid…” his voice comes out gruff. “Look, that… I’m not killing you. And you aren’t falling down any holes today.”

Chara goes quiet at the sound of his voice. They sniff hard. “Is that…” their voice is shaking just as hard as their body. “Is that your judgement?”

“It is.” He holds his hands in the air a few inches from the back of their head. Slowly, carefully, he rests them on their shoulders. “Probably the easiest judgment I’ve ever made, and that includes when I decided to kill you after you dusted everyone and my brother. Frankly, kid, I wish you woulda killed a few more of those fuckers.”

There is a pause. Chara pulls back to look at him, little fists still clenched in his hoodie. “Did you just make a pun about those assholes who hurt me?”

Sans considers. He grins. “It was intended as an insult, but yeah, it was a pun, too.”

“You are fucking _terrible_.”

“You knew that already.”

“We will see what my mother has to say when she hears you said that.”

Ooohh no. He’s more than dead if Toriel hears that one. “Aw, come on, Chara. I’m just kiddin’ around.”

They release him and punch him in the ribs. It’s hard and connects well and makes him let out a staggered _oof._ “That one makes far more sense with Asriel. And _I’ve_ heard it before, even when I was trying not to pay attention to you. Several times. You are so lazy you’re recycling bad jokes, not just the good ones.”

“Obviously I’ll have to think up some new ones if I’m gonna impress you.”

“You are never going to impress me, no matter how hard you try.”

Sans studies them, and as he does, their annoyed expression crumbles and their eyes well up with tears again. Their face is bright red, both from the cold and from crying. “I don’t wanna t-tell anyone.”

He feels his grin falter. He looks at the snow next to Chara’s booted feet. “Kid… I wish I could tell ya everything’s gonna be okay. I wish I could make that true. But it’s bullshit. Even if you get better, some days you’re not gonna be okay. Some days you’ll wake up and wish you were dead, and some days you’ll see or hear or smell something that makes one of the memories rip you to pieces. It’ll happen. Still happens to me, even though there’s no more loops and my buddies are all around me and my bro’s doing awesome and… and Isla’s stickin’ around. It’s just gonna happen.

“I can’t understand… what you’ve been through. I know opening up was hard for me, even though most of my shit is impersonal. But a lotta people love you, kid, even if you don’t think you deserve it. If they know what’s wrong, they can figure out ways to help you when you’re havin’ bad days. And it’s gonna be bad a lot at first, and you’re gonna feel like a burden. They want to take care of you and you’re gonna have to let them, even if you feel worthless. They won’t see you that way. It’ll suck, but… the most loving thing you can do is let them take care of you.”

They bury their face in their hands, crying again. He’s struck by how young they look. They are ten now, Sans knows they were in the Underground for at least one or two years before they died, so they were even younger when all that shit happened to them.

This entire time, he wasn’t fighting against a cold-blooded killer. He was fighting against a really messed up kid.

“I don’t wanna walk home,” they sob out. “C-can you – can we—”

“Yeah, we can take a shortcut,” he replies. He takes a step towards them, holds out a hand. “Here. And hold on tight.”

Chara wipes their face on their coat sleeve. They reach out and take his hand, but not before examining it for whoopee cushions.

(He’ll get ‘em with it later, when they’re more prone to laughing. It’s… not _always_ funny.)

 

* * *

 

They don’t want to endure everyone’s fussing and worrying when they get home. It’s Asriel’s fault. Apparently he came home from school with a headache and noticed they were gone. He told Isla and Sans and apparently Isla informed everyone else after trying to blow up Sans’s phone with missed calls and texts.

Chara was not gone for long. An hour, tops. Toriel still insists on wrapping them in a blanket and sitting them in front of the fireplace once they get out of their winter gear. Asriel cries, but they flinch when he goes to hug them, so he backs off and Frisk makes him feel better by letting him cuddle them on the sectional.

They are grateful when Asgore brings them tea. They can look at that instead of meeting the worried gazes of Frisk and Asriel. They do not want to think about the conversation Sans is having with Isla.

Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys were here too, but Chara couldn’t take the volume, so Alphys took them for a visit to Mettaton’s penthouse because he’s home for a few months before he goes back on tour.

Sans once again proves his laziness by popping into existence next to the dining table. As he walks over to them, Chara sees Isla descending the stairs. “She’s comin’,” Sans tells them. “Anything I can help ya with?”

“No,” they reply. “I apologize in advance for ruining your reunion. I’m probably going to be the reason you won’t get laid tonight.”

Frisk snorts in laughter and Asriel, scandalized, exclaims, “Chara!”

Sans smirks. “I’ve had more than my fair share of pussy since we started our break, thanks.”

Asriel sputters, blushing severely, and Frisk lies back on the sectional, laughing so hard they’re having trouble breathing. “Asriel, he means Bean, the _cat_ , has been sleeping with him, quit freaking out,” Chara scolds. They turn back to Sans and let their gaze slide over his shoulder. “Hi, Mom,” they chirp.

It’s worth it, to watch the panic smatter across his face as he looks sharply over his shoulder. Nobody is there. “Oh, ha ha,” he says, turning back to them. “That was pretty good, kid.”

“What was pretty good?” Isla asks as she reaches them. She stops next to Sans. “Were you making inappropriate jokes in front of the kids again?”

“Yes!” Asriel squeaks. “He was, Isla!”

“Tattle- _tail_ ,” Sans says, wiggling his lack of butt and lack of butt-appendage to get his point across.

Isla gives him a blank look while Asriel pinches Frisk for laughing. “Go distract Toriel and Asgore,” she says calmly. She looks at Frisk and Asriel sprawled out on the sectional. “You two go, too. I don’t want anyone in earshot.”

Frisk looks at Chara. When Chara nods at them, they stand and follow Sans immediately.

“Are you sure?” Asriel asks Isla, tone so worried it sounds like he might cry again.

“Yes, Asriel,” Isla answers. “It will not be for long. Remember how you didn’t want your parents to know some things after your rebirth? And remember how there were some things you couldn’t talk about in front of Frisk?”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes. I do. I know. I just…”

Isla walks over to him, raises her hands to his face, and pats one of his cheeks. He’s so tall and that’s weird. He almost has a foot on Chara, so they shouldn’t stand next to him until they start growing – actually, that is likely futile, since Asriel will not stop growing until he is towering over them all.

“I know it’s hard,” Isla murmurs, “but the most helpful thing you can do right now is go sit with your family, have some tea, and complain whenever Sans makes a crappy joke. Alright?”

He breathes deep again and nods. “Okay,” he says. He glances at Chara, and they nod at him, trying to look confident. “Okay,” he says again, and finally turns to join the rest of his family.

Between the physical distance and the crackling of the fire, nobody will be able to hear them unless Chara loses it and raises their voice. They do not want to talk about it. They want to ignore it and forget it forever, but… that’s not going to happen.

If they don’t do something about it, it will kill them. It killed them once. If for no other reason than for the sake of their family – their _real_ family, the people who love them, the people who are what family is _supposed_ to be, even if it is not the first thing Chara thinks of sometimes – they cannot let it kill them again.

Isla sits on the floor across from them even though it might bother her joints to get up from that position. She always does that. Always talks to them on the same level, or from below their level.

“Let me explain to you what my plan is,” she says. “Today I want to get a general idea of what we have to work on. I don’t need details. Tonight you’re going to stay over at our place. Papyrus and Sans will keep you busy and, with your permission, I will tell your family what you’ve told me. From there, we will reevaluate on a daily basis how long you need to stay away from your family based on how they are doing.”

They frown. “You think… I need to be away from them?”

“I don’t want to subject you to their processing of your trauma. This will very likely be devastating and traumatic for them on some level, too. In the immediate fallout, they may do or say things that are unhelpful or painful to you. It wouldn’t be intentional, or their fault, but it is something I can foresee and prevent.” She glances at the fire. “It’s Asriel I’m most worried about. I have a feeling you’ll be with Sans and Papyrus for a couple of days because I’ll have to be with Asriel and I won’t have much time for you.”

“That’s okay.” Chara sips their tea. “I don’t… I want some time for things to settle, first. And… Frisk knows already. About some of it.”

“They may be ready to see you after I speak with them, then,” Isla replies. “We’ll see. If they can stay with you, I would recommend it. Papyrus won’t know, but even in ignorance he can be… a little much, especially for people with issues with sensory processing and sensitivity. Frisk can keep that in check. I’m under the impression you and Sans are getting along now, but I doubt he will be very good at interacting with you following your conversation with me. It took him lots of practice to get good at handling my symptoms, and mine are simpler than yours.”

This is happening. She has it planned out. “I, um… nobody else needs to hear about details. For now, telling them the gist of it is fine.”

“Okay.” She pauses, then says, very softly, “Sans told me you indicated a history of sexual abuse.”

They cannot tell if the medicalized language is helpful or not. Their grip tightens on their teacup and their throat closes. They try to breathe through their nose because they can’t open their mouth because it’s moving to the front of their head _again_ and they are afraid it is finally going to explode and blow their skull out.

“Chara,” Isla says, and even though their attention snaps back to her voice, she sounds a bit echo-y to them. “Can you nod or shake your head?” she asks them. They nod mechanically. That’s fine. “Good. I’ll ask you yes or no questions. So was what Sans told me true?”

They nod.

“Okay. Were there multiple perpetrators?”

Another nod. Anxious, they gulp down the rest of their tea.

They don’t know how long they sit there while Isla slowly uncovers the old, rotted shit they’ve been trying to forget for years. They don’t say a word. It isn’t cathartic, not like it was with Sans. They don’t know why they blurted that out in front of him, but for just a little while afterward, they felt… better.

They don’t feel good about this. Isla explains things between questions. She acknowledges that talking initially will probably make them feel like shit, since they can’t talk at all right now. She reminds them of how Frisk and Asriel had different needs. She had to be with Asriel all the time for a long time, but Frisk never gave her details and they didn’t need to. She noticed them getting better as they learnt what it truly meant to love and be loved. She says it’s okay if they have to stop treatment temporarily so they can pretend everything is fine for a little while.

She doesn’t lie to them. She tells them it sucks to get better because it takes away emotional numbness as an option. It will take a long time and trying to move too quickly can be just as damaging as refusing to let anyone help.

By the end of it, they are crying silently and their ears are buzzing. Their head feels weird and they shut their eyes a long time ago.

“Chara,” Isla says. “I’m going to take your teacup from you now, alright?”

They nod, and she does. They immediately pull the blanket over their head like a hood and tuck their hands inside. They’ve been rocking for a while now, back and forth, back and forth, very slowly, eyes closed.

“I think we’re done for today,” she continues after a moment. “That you were able to do this is extraordinary. You probably don’t think so, but it took incredible strength for you to come home and share this with me, and I’m very grateful for it. We are going to let you wind down a bit before sending you with Sans. I won’t tell your family anything while you are here.” A pause. “This needs to be said. I owe you an apology. I’ve been projecting onto you and it has affected my ability to treat you. I feel as though I’ve messed up more with you than I have with anyone else.”

“You think you shouldn’t have let me cut myself.” It comes out in a whisper. “I would have done it anyway. You knew that.” It was most of what they talked about in sessions prior to this, since nothing else would come out. It was one of the few things they were able to talk about.

She cracks her knuckles. “It still… wasn’t good on my part. I expected you would be able to talk after self-harming, but you never could. Sans got you to talk, and I forbade him from seeing you. I should have had Sans talk to you first.”

What is she getting at? “You can’t know that. Perhaps I wouldn’t have said anything to him if you had not allowed it.”

“Maybe, but that does not excuse my mistakes. If you want me to find you another therapist, I—”

“No.” Their eyes snap open. “No strangers. Need you.”

“Okay.” She nods. She doesn’t try to hug them or touch them. “Okay. I’ll probably ask again later, but in the meantime, I promise to try to do better for you. You deserve that.”

 

* * *

 

I talk to Sans first. I feel drained already and I’m not done yet.

“They’re going to pack a bag so they can spend the night,” I tell him. “I will likely be sending Frisk over later. They will probably want to sleep with Frisk in the guest room. Just… forewarn Papyrus to watch the volume and personal space. They’re experiencing some sensory overload right now.”

Sans rarely initiates physical contact, even with me, so it surprises me when he grabs me in a hug. “I missed you,” he says into my ear, voice small.

I rub his back, fingers dipping in intercostal spaces and counting vertebrae. I get distracted by his anatomy really easily when I’m emotionally overwhelmed. Which sounds sexual and perverted, but it’s not in the least. “I missed you too. I don’t know exactly what you did, but it was amazing because it got them to talk and come home and agree to treatment. Thank you for that.”

“I told ‘em I wouldn’t judge ‘em for their human kill unless they told me why. They, uh, hit me a few times while they were screamin’ at me. I didn’t dust, so… I knew they weren’t really a killer.”

And Chara wanted desperately for Sans to judge them. Having that dangled in front of them broke through to them.

I pull back so I can look him in the face. “It’s bad,” I say. “They’ve admitted to molestation that progressed to rape, beatings that worsened when nobody did anything about visible bruises, starvation as punishment, and regularly being called derogatory names. Oh, and a refusal to acknowledge their gender identity, but that was an afterthought for them. They can’t remember a time before their fall into the Underground that was not spent trying to survive.”

He’s not grinning for once. “Humans can be really fuckin’ terrible sometimes, Isla.”

I nod. “I doubt I’ll be coming home tonight. They said I could tell their family.”

“I take it you’ll be with the prince.”

“That seems likely. I imagine Toriel and Asgore had an idea, at least, and Frisk already knows some of it from their body-sharing days. Asriel… I doubt he has let himself consider that Chara might have suffered as terribly they have.”

Sans hugs me again. “Chara already apologized for the cockblock,” he mutters. “But I think Asriel’s had a greater impact on our sex life.”

“A greater impact than my asexuality and your laziness?”

“Touché.”

Chara is… not okay, but they are calm by the time they pack a few things, say goodnight to their family, and follow Sans out into the cold, dark night to make the short trip next door.

Frisk first, so I can send them after Chara. They shrink visibly when I tell them. They can repress their emotions and appear totally expressionless. It is not a skill they are using now.

“What did you know about?” I ask them once I am done.

Frisk sniffs, trying really hard not to cry because they don’t want to go see Chara after crying because Chara will know why. “I – knew about the, the beatings and the sexual abuse,” they say, muffled because they have a hand over their mouth to try to calm themself down. “But I didn’t know it was that bad. I kinda – always assumed it only happened once, ‘cause I would just get flashes from them when they were really upset.”

I wait a moment. “Are you okay right now?”

Frisk’s hand comes down from their mouth. “No,” they admit, voice wavery. “But I’m okay enough. Should I… should I go over there, or stay here? You’re going to tell Mom and Dad and Asriel, right?”

“Do you feel like you can hang out with Chara for a few days?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you should go. Chara needs a break before intensive therapy. They need to be reminded that they are loved and valued. Your parents and Asriel, on the other hand, might benefit from my presence and a few impromptu sessions.”

“I… know. I wanna be here for them, too.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow, give you a rundown on what happened. You don’t have to stay over there. I imagine Toriel and Asgore might be ready to see Chara tomorrow, but I’m not sure about Asriel. At the moment, Chara does not need to know how upset their maltreatment is going to make their family. That would just be something else to weigh on them.”

Frisk understands that. “Okay,” they reply. “Okay. I’ll go.”

I send Asriel upstairs to get ready for bed, even though it’s early. Toriel and Asgore are next. Together, because the information each of them has is the same. I know they discussed things about Chara when they were living in their home.

When I tell them, Asgore puts his elbows on the table, leans his face in his hands, and cries. Toriel tears up, too, but retains her composure.

“We… had an idea,” she tells me. She pats Asgore’s shoulder, then lets her hand rest there. “When they fell, their injuries… were suspicious. We all invited them to speak with us, but we were never insistent. I think we… subconsciously wanted to avoid learning exactly how bad it was.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” I say. “Even with the proper training, I have to tread very carefully. Without it, you would have likely been helpless and might have made things worse, despite your intentions.”

Asgore reaches blindly across the table. I grasp his hand in both of mine. We have been good friends for a long time, so I know what questions he wants to ask and can’t currently verbalize. “I’ve got them,” I promise. I do, and I have to do better. “What happened today was a step in the right direction. It is going to take them a long time to heal and there will be scars. But – this is important – unlike Asriel, I believe they will have times during which they will need to be left alone. We need to communicate with one another when one of us recognizes that. Badgering them to alleviate our own worries when they need to recharge will negatively impact them.”

Toriel nods. “I presume you removed them temporarily for that purpose?”

“That and they don’t need to see how you react to this information. If they want to know, they will ask me. Or you.”

Asgore drops his other hand from his face. “What can we do to help them?” he asks. “We don’t want to overstep, but surely there must be _something_ …”

“Don’t ask them about what they talk about with me,” I reply. “An occasional, gentle reminder that you’re willing to listen to them if they want to talk or vent won’t hurt. Let them establish their personal boundaries – I noticed a bit of a touch aversion. I suspect they are enduring hugs and other typical physical contact for your sakes. Verbalize it instead. Let them know they are loved.”

“Should we do something about the media speculation?” Toriel questions. “Every time either one of us has run into a reporter in the last three months, we were asked about Chara. I am concerned they would panic if approached by a reporter or journalist.”

“They can speculate all they like. Chara filters out the human media.”

“Oh,” Asgore says softly. He’s calming down, but his grip on my hand is still tight. “You’re telling Asriel after us. Would you like us to be there? I cannot imagine this will be easy for him.”

My impulse is to refuse. He is their son, but Asriel is kind of my kid, too, my baby, and as he is beginning to become more independent, he is emotionally distancing himself from his parents. Not from me. He is deeply, deeply attached to me and I have a love for him that bypasses my instinctual revulsion at the thought of having my own children. I do not like the idea of admitting I need help handling him.

But Asriel has been bigger and stronger than me for a long time. When he grabbed me too hard and poked me with his claws, I wasn’t lying when I said it could have been much worse. I can’t expect him to think straight when he hears this, and I can expect him to be angry.

He should be angry. I’m angry. Everyone should be angry. All those damn people are dead, but if they weren’t, they wouldn’t live for long. I’d see to that.

“Yes, that would probably be for the best,” I say. “I can’t really… hold him anymore. One of you can do that.”

It ends up not being an issue. Asriel starts sobbing and can’t say anything. We take turns with hugs until he cries himself to sleep.

Before I climb in bed with him, I send a text to Sans: _How’s it going over there?_

_both of them r out. u ok?_

_Really drained. Asriel is distinctly less fine than everyone else._

His next text is a picture of Frisk and Chara in the guest bed, Frisk on their back and their mouth half-open, Chara curled on their side towards them, face under Frisk’s arm. It looks like they’re trying to be the big spoon and Frisk isn’t cooperating.

_so cute rite?_

I smile at that. _Goodnight. I love you._

_night. love u 2._


	7. Determination: unwavering in one’s purpose.

When Sans wakes up the next day, he can hear his brother cooking something in the kitchen. Which is usually the case whenever Papyrus steps foot in a kitchen, but he can hear him talking to somebody else, so his instinct is to groan out _nooooo_ because everyone knows not to let Undyne and Papyrus (just Undyne, honestly) try to cook unsupervised.

He drags himself out of bed, out of his room, and when he’s halfway down the stairs it occurs to him that if Undyne’s here, he should have heard her yell at least once by now.

It’s not Undyne. It’s Chara. They are sitting on the counter, reading a recipe and supervising his brother. Papyrus dumps chocolate chips into a mixing bowl with batter in it.

“GOOD MORNING, BROTHER!!!” Papyrus greets. “It is wonderful to see you awake this early!! My tiny human friend Chara is helping me expand my culinary skills!!”

Looks more like Chara is using Papyrus to get their chocolate fix via pancakes, but whatever. Sans focuses on the kid. “Where’s Frisk?”

“Still in bed,” they reply nonchalantly. “They whined like a baby when I tried to wake them up.”

Sans should still be in bed. He parks himself at the table and half-listens to Chara boss around his brother while he checks his phone.

Isla texted him. _I’ll be with Asriel all morning. He’s really upset. Get your butt over here sometime this afternoon; Toriel and Asgore want to talk to you._

Um. Is that bad? _they gonna yell at me?_

_I doubt it. I think they just want to hear how it went yesterday from you._

He isn’t looking forward to that. Even though it ended well, he still went after the kid when he was forbidden from going near them.

Frisk comes out of the guest room half an hour later, eyes still mostly closed. They sit next to Sans and let their forehead softly _thump_ against the table.

Then Papyrus is setting a plate of stacked pancakes in the middle of the table. They look… pretty good, actually. They aren’t visibly burnt or undercooked, at any rate. Chara follows him with more plates and utensils.

“I was skeptical about these pan-cakes, since cakes fall into the dessert category,” Papyrus explains. “Tiny human Chara informed me that there was a naming flaw, and pancakes are a common breakfast food for humans!! Can you believe that, Brother!?”

“No way, Pap,” Sans replies. They have a lack of breakfast food around the house. Isla eats pre-made or packaged stuff in the mornings; if she eats too much or too little with her meds, she’ll puke. Sans usually doesn’t wake up until after noon, so it’s typically just Papyrus, which means spaghetti. “They look good,” he says honestly. “I don’t suppose they’d go good with ketchup?”

“Syrup,” Frisk tells the table. “Syrup is the condiment you want.”

“I shall retrieve some!!” Papyrus exclaims, darting over to the refrigerator.

Sans steals a glance at Chara. “Kid, you okay?”

Frisk looks up at this. Chara’s eyebrows come together. “Yes. Or I _will_ be, as long as you have fudge sauce for me to use instead of syrup.”

They march over to Papyrus and the fridge. “They’ll be okay,” Frisk says. “Not now, but they will be.” They lean against him in a side-hug. “I never thanked you for bringing them home and helping them open up. So thank you.”

He finds he can’t reply right away to this. He pats Frisk on the back. They’re a freaking teenager now. It’s insane. The barrier has stayed broken for four-and-a-half years and that’s even crazier.

“I’m glad I did,” he says, and finds he means it. Frisk smiles at him as Papyrus and Chara return with their sugary pancake toppings.

 

* * *

 

Asriel stays in bed all morning. I get up, pee, and come back because he is too apathetic now compared to how he was last night.

“You know what’s fucked up?” he says after two hours of silence. He waits until I turn to look at him, and then he can’t make eye contact. “I get it. I get how it can feel to hurt somebody, to rip them apart just for the hell of it, or wear them down and make them want to die.”

“But you don’t,” I say gently. “You didn’t have full access to your emotions when you were hurting and killing people.”

“I don’t think they did anything wrong.” His tone is bland. “Chara could have killed every last asshole who touched them and they would have done nothing wrong. Just like you did nothing wrong when you killed the person who shot you. I can’t understand the guilt you feel for killing someone who hurt you so badly. Not when I’ve repeatedly destroyed people who didn’t deserve it in the slightest.”

“I suppose I can understand that. You’ve been so hard on yourself about your indiscretions as Flowey that innocence, or lack thereof, is important to you.”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking – all they said was that some people had hurt them. If they had told me everything, made me understand, I don’t know if I would have stopped them when they tried to burn their village to the ground. I might have. But I might have helped them. I don’t know.”

“Asriel, I seriously doubt you could have fully understood without your experiences as Flowey to draw from.”

His eyes are shadowed. “I don’t know about that. I was naïve, yeah, but… those humans are lucky they’re already dead.” I’m nodding, agreeing with him. “I’d kill them, otherwise. Burn them alive. Make it slow. And I know, even if I didn’t completely get it, I would have been furious if Chara had told me everything. I am furious. I’m—”

He chokes and starts crying again. I sit up and lean over so I can rub his back. It’s been on and off like this, but that’s okay. He’s talking, he’s processing, but he’s an emotional person and he has a lot of feelings to shovel through.

I go downstairs to get an icepack for him. Asgore isn’t here, but Toriel is, and she gives me a half-worried, half-questioning look as soon as she sees me.

“He’s okay,” I tell her. “All the crying is giving him a headache. How are you doing?”

“I am fine,” she replies automatically. “I’m only glad we are on winter break and have the time to devote to this.”

My phone buzzes. Sans sent me another text; it’s a picture of Frisk, Papyrus, and Chara. They are eating and the picture was evidently unplanned. Papyrus appears to be scolding the camera. Frisk is giving a thumbs-up, clearly chewing. Chara is scowling, right hand outstretched in the one-fingered salute.

I show Toriel. “Oh, my,” she says, but she does not sound particularly surprised. “Do you suppose this will be happening often?”

“Sans and Chara have a lot in common. I imagine they will be picking at each other frequently now that they’ve realized they are on the same side.”

“Did you tell Sans we wish to speak with him sometime today?”

“Yes. Do you think you’re ready to see Chara?”

“I am,” she answers readily. “But I understand if they are not ready. I’m not sure about Gorey. He was quite upset.”

I stare at her until she raises an eyebrow. “Asriel isn’t near ready,” I say. Holy shit, she didn’t even notice. “He will need another couple of days. I’ll talk to Chara this evening; see where they are. Text Sans when Asgore gets here and tell him to come over. I think I’m going to be with Asriel most of the afternoon.”

Toriel nods. Her voice is soft when she speaks. “Okay. Thank you, Isla.”

I dither, icepack in hand, then lean over for a hug. She strokes my hair like I’m one of her kids, but right now I don’t mind.

When she lets me go, she clears her throat and says in her mom-voice, “Be sure to tell Asriel I have allowed him to skip breakfast and he may not skip lunch. The same goes for you. You’re far too skinny.”

Actually, I’m almost one-ten right now because I haven’t had intestinal issues in a long time, but I don’t correct her. I nod and take the icepack upstairs so I can relay her message.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t get easier, but it somehow gets better.

They don’t see anyone but the skeletons, Frisk, or Isla for two days. Then they are allowed to sleep in their own bed again (well, Frisk’s bed). Toriel and Asgore seem fine. They pay too much attention to them, in Chara’s opinion, but they know it’s for their own sakes, not because they expect Chara to do something bad.

Asriel, on the other hand, is obviously not okay. But he hugs them when he sees them and mutters, “I wanna kill them, Chara, I wanna twist their stupid empty heads off and I can’t ‘cause they’re already dead,” and Chara can’t help themself. They giggle at those words from Asriel’s mouth.

He pulls back and frowns. “I mean it, Chara.”

They snort. “I know you do.”

Asriel cocks his head to the side and says, “Burning them alive would have been nice, too.”

“A knife in the gut,” Chara adds. “That would be an even slower death.”

This escalates into nastier and even more twisted hypotheticals until they are both laughing. Isla doesn’t twitch in response to this, even though Asriel glances at her after the first few fantasies to see if she has anything to say about it. Frisk wrinkles their nose, says, “You guys are gross,” and sticks their headphones on their head so they can enjoy their company without listening to them.

Whether Chara likes it or not, they are already sort of semi-famous. Everyone in the monster community seems to know who they are, which is something they knew but is made much more apparent when they decide to accompany Frisk and Asgore to the Embassy one day. There are humans who work at the Embassy, but they all seem to get along with the monsters. Chara knows that is good, even if it makes them uneasy.

Everyone wants to say hi to them, and they… suppose they can handle that. All they have to do is fake a smile and wave. They don’t have to say anything and Isla makes sure nobody comes too close. All three of them have jobs that involve interacting with other people, especially Frisk. Frisk’s entire job entails talking to other people about monsters and the laws and potential laws surrounding them. Asgore does some of that, too, and so does Toriel, but Toriel mainly teaches at and runs the school and Asgore runs the Embassy and communicates frequently with the monster community. Asriel isn’t doing anything official yet, but he does spend time following their dad and Frisk and sometimes Isla around to learn from them.

Even Isla fields a lot of interpersonal interactions when she’s not with a patient. She is their first line of defense against unwanted visitors like reporters or anyone who decides to be an asshole. She is present at most of the important meetings and Asgore runs almost all major decisions by her. Oh, and she does research with Alphys and Sans at the lab. That’s not even including everything she does at home with Chara and Asriel and occasionally Frisk and Sans.

Chara is wondering what they might like to do. Isla tells them it’s a good thing they are thinking about a future that includes and revolves around their family and advises them not to put too much pressure on themself. They still do, but they are conscious of it because she points it out. They feel like they _have_ to be useful to these people. They more than owe it to them.

Here is the difference: a month ago, they believed there was no possibility they could be more than a burden to anyone who loved them. Now they know there are ways they can help. They just have to find them.

Sans tells them he doesn’t do a lot of talking to the volunteers who come in to get their souls read. If Isla is here, she will do all the talking and all he does is operate the equipment. Most of his time is spent maintaining the scanning equipment and organizing data so it can be looked at and understood immediately. He pitches in with the research, but Alphys and Isla do the majority of the writing for scientific journals.

Chara could do something like that. Something vital, but in the background, something that frees up time for other people.

“Why don’t you have any degrees?” Chara asks Sans. Usually they only get to talk to him alone when they go to the lab.

“Guess I’m just not hot enough,” he snarks. “Tends to happen when you don’t produce body heat.”

They scowl. “No, dipshit. Academic degrees. I won’t believe you if you tell me you don’t have the knowledge or smarts to have at least one.”

There is a pause. Then, “Brightness is up, kiddo. Sixty-eighth percentile.”

It’s been rising steadily since they started talking. Actually talking. About things that killed them and they hate and cannot stand to touch some days.

Chara leaves the little room and looks at Sans. “Answer me.”

He scratches his skull. “Just too lazy to get accredited. And I couldn’t fully believe we wouldn’t go back. I, uh, still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“What degrees would you get?”

“Somethin’ in physics. Maybe math. Engineering. I dunno exactly how humans split academic fields.”

“At what level? Ph.D.? In all of them?”

“Nah, that would be… just the physics. Maybe the math. I’d be lucky to pull a Master’s in engineering.”

“When are you going to get them?”

He glances at them. “I never said anything about getting them.”

Chara glares at him. “No, but _I_ said something about you getting them. So you are. Because you _want_ to get _at least_ one. And maybe if you start using your head to be productive you won’t obsess over how many people a ten-year-old might kill if you’re not watching them.”

He’s staring at them now. “Ouch, Chara.”

They feel themself flush. Was that too harsh? “And it is obvious you feel like you’re not good enough for Isla,” they continue, unable to stop. “You are, but just get a fucking degree. It will make you feel better.”

He keeps staring until he snorts and starts laughing really hard. “You’re a piece of work, kiddo. Who knows. Maybe I will.”

Some days they can’t talk. They will try and they choke on the words, but Isla doesn’t push them. Some days they talk for hours, monotone and apathetic. Others they manage to talk through their sobbing. Isla says this is good. She says they should have intense negative feelings about what happened to them because what happened to them was traumatic and awful, and having those feelings means they are finally integrating. The exercises she makes them do to deter cutting finally feel like they are helping, when before they were doing nothing. They still fight the urge, but they haven’t cut themself since before they tried to leave.

Sleeping becomes easier. They aren’t kicking Frisk so often anymore. Some nights they feel like they might be okay moving to the top bunk, but others they wake Frisk up and they go together across the hall, where they all fall asleep in Asriel’s bed. The nightmares decrease in frequency, but when they have them, Frisk and Asriel are the perfect comfort.

They decide to go back to the hospital to complete their medical records. Isla and Sans take them. Because Isla’s friend is one of the doctors, she is allowed to stay with them at all times and do some of the more menial tasks the technicians usually do because Chara cannot let a human stranger touch them. They are okay with humans they met through Frisk, but everyone else can just stay the fuck away.

Isla’s doctor friend has a long discussion with her after the x-rays and whatever else they took come back. They take more blood and give them more shots. Isla very quietly asks them if they want to be examined for the purpose of finding evidence of sexual abuse, but that – that is something they cannot do. They do not know how they would feel about that going on their medical records but they cannot even consider putting themself through an exam like that. Not now. Not while their brain feels so raw and they can be triggered by a thought, let alone a touch.

Chara begins to pay attention to the world around them. There has to be some way they can make it better. Newer Home merged with the human city – Chara’s old village – eight months ago. Things have yet to settle down and the crime rate on the human end of the city has shot up. Generally, humans with anti-monster sentiments do not come to the monster end of the city and the monsters stay out of the conflicts between their supporters and the racists.

They go to Frisk, Asgore, and Isla, in that order. The entire city is named Newer Home – apparently there was a vote on that and it won. The numbers are about eight-thousand monsters to fifteen-thousand humans, with just over a quarter of the humans believing the monsters should either go back in the mountain or be re-segregated. Just as many humans are actively supportive of the monsters, which is something Chara has trouble believing at first. The majority of their human neighbors are indifferent, want the conflict to die down, and don’t care if the monsters stay or what they do so long as it doesn’t infringe on their personal rights, which it won’t.

Asgore tells them the city council from the now-integrated city remained intact and now they have pointless monthly meetings in which nothing ever gets done. Isla tells them the names of the people who are the biggest obstacles. Frisk sits in on these meetings and Asriel has been to a couple, but Asriel hates going to them because even calm discussions about racial tensions and hostility upset him.

Everyone in their family has changed, but Asriel has changed the most. He’s angrier and less fearful than he used to be and very, very protective of the people he loves. He admits to having violent urges and part of Chara is grateful they are not alone in that. The other part of them hurts for him because he is so hard on himself when he has thoughts or behavior that could be considered Flowey in nature.

One week passes, then two, then three. If they can let themself think they have made progress, the progress is definitely there. Isla is willing to talk about anything they can throw at her, even the stupid philosophical shit that has taken root in their mind. She just _knows_ all these theories and doctrines even though her field is psychology, not philosophy, and she tells Chara about them and directs them towards readings they half-understand.

Isla is great for breaking down the storm that stirs up occasionally in their skull and helping them understand when and why and how their brain is short-circuiting, but she goes way over their head here. They are wondering why this, why the surface, why did they survive, why did they latch onto Frisk, why do they get this second chance. How can they possibly live now, when they were so bad at it before. Chara _wants_ to live, they do, and they know they do because it’s a feeling unfamiliar to them, but it doesn’t feel compatible with them. The idea that they have a future, that it’s just _there_ for them, feels weird and different.

They ask Sans about it. He shrugs and says, “Shit, kid. I dunno. Always been a bit of a nihilist myself. I know Paps is plannin’ on makin’ ravioli tonight, and his ravioli’s pretty good. Also it’s been forever since Isla and I have boned, so I was kinda hopin’ I’d get lucky.”

Sans is the only one who will casually talk about sex in front of them. He’s done it in front of Frisk and Asriel, too. “That sounds hedonistic, not nihilistic,” Chara replies.

“Heh. Then maybe I’m a hedonist.”

“You don’t have an overarching… purpose, or something?”

“Not really. I’m happy if the people I love are happy. Usually. So I suppose I just do what I can to help them stay happy.”

And they get the answer from Sans, of all people. Live for the people they love. Chara can do that.

 

* * *

 

Chara does not want to tell anyone who doesn’t already know how and why they killed themself. This is good for the Monster Movement because their story would draw attention to the fact that seven human souls were needed to break down the barrier and I don’t want humans to start asking exactly how the barrier came down. I want them to keep shrugging and saying _magic_ because we cannot talk about six dead kids. Asgore would take full responsibility, but it wouldn’t matter. The entire monster race would be blamed for a freedom bought with the lives of human children.

I don’t know how good this is for Chara. They withhold truths and details more than any other patient I have had. They don’t need to tell me everything, but it’s a challenge to figure out what they need to talk about and to gently extract that information from them.

It finally seems to have sunk in that their family wants them in their lives. They still hate humans on principle, and I don’t blame them, but I am hoping they will grow to temper that hatred, to be able to use it and set it aside. They recognize that their own humanity can be useful, as mine was when I took bullets intended to kill Asriel.

Healing never happens quickly. Sometimes it is so glacial it’s unnoticeable, but even if they still have a long way to go, Chara is healing.

 

* * *

 

Even though Asriel knows when his birthday is, he cries when they throw him a surprise party. He can’t honestly not be expecting anything, though maybe he just wasn’t expecting anything today, since Chara appeared officially before the monster community yesterday.

It was… okay. There were, of course, uninvited human reporters, but they took pictures and video recordings and didn’t open their mouths. Frisk is pretty sure Isla and Undyne had words with them beforehand. Chara didn’t speak; their parents each said something short. Chara stood there and tried unsuccessfully not to scowl. Sans called them ‘resting bitchface’ afterwards, which prompted an escalating insult-war until Toriel scolded them both.

Mettaton and Napstablook are here, which explains the great music and fabulous decorations. Asriel is a little disappointed because Kalene couldn’t come, but weirder is that Sans and Isla aren’t here yet.

When they do show up, Isla is out of breath and limping a little – bad joint, probably. Sans is sweating despite the freezing weather. He looks awfully smug with himself – actually, he’s moving a little stiffly too – oh. _Oh._

Frisk doesn’t make any snide comments. Their patience is rewarded when Asgore offers Sans some cake and Isla smirks and says, “Don’t bother, he already ate.”

Sans goes bright blue. “Isla!” Asgore exclaims, shocked and embarrassed because _everyone_ heard that.

“You’re one to talk,” Sans shoots back. “Didn’t think you’d be thirsty, with how satisfied we made sure you were before we left.”

Isla defiantly tosses back whatever alcohol is in her glass. Toriel tries to muffle a snicker and Asriel looks at her, eyes wide with betrayal. “We had sex,” Isla announces unnecessarily. “It was so good we were both too busy moaning to meet our quota of witty sex banter. So we’re bantering now.”

“Oh my,” Mettaton comments, just as Papyrus mutters, “Glad I wasn’t in the house.”

Chara looks at Isla. “You’ve already got a skeleton inside you,” they snark. “You don’t need another.”

Undyne and Alphys are hanging off one another, both nearly asphyxiating from trying not to burst out laughing. Asriel wails, _“Chara!”_ pulls his ears over his face, and scuttles over to Frisk to hide behind them.

Isla has the decency to cringe at this, but Sans offers Chara a high-five. “Nice one, kid.”

Chara stares at him. “I’m not touching your hand. You just told everyone where it’s been.”

Cue uncontrolled laughter from Alphys and Undyne. Mettaton hides a smile behind his hand. Papyrus blushes and turns to Napstablook, who clearly doesn’t know what to say, to begin a loud conversation about puzzles. Asgore is giving Toriel a what-the-hell look because she can’t keep herself from laughing, either.

Isla flushes, which is an accomplishment because it takes a lot to embarrass her, but Sans just laughs. “For the record, I made him clean up afterwards,” she says loudly. “What do you people take me for?”

When Toriel offers Chara a high-five instead, they accept. “Tori,” Asgore says in a long-suffering tone. Still grinning, she shrugs unapologetically at him, which makes him smile. Asriel groans, displeased, so their father approaches them and exchanges a sympathetic glance with him.

“Okay, okay,” Toriel says, amused. “Can we keep this a little more age-appropriate, please?”

“I’m over a hundred years old,” Chara says.

“No you aren’t,” Toriel tells them sweetly. Chara makes a face.

“They’re getting better,” Asriel says suddenly.

Frisk nods in agreement. Asgore touches Asriel’s head between his budding horns. “They are, my son.”

Asriel looks up at him. Asgore smiles and says, “Memories are like a garden. Try to forget them and the weeds will grow wild until they find you and their thorns pierce you. Tend to them with care and you will have many beautiful moments worth returning to. It may be back-breaking and nearly impossible some days, but your loved ones will always be there to help you.”

“Dad,” Asriel says, rolling his eyes, “everything is like a garden to you. You always use that metaphor.”

“He’s right, though,” Chara says, suddenly next to them. They look at Frisk and Frisk nods. They understand. They shared a head with Chara; they know better than anyone.

Frisk very casually puts a hand on the underside of Asriel’s plate and pushes upwards sharply. He blinks at them, frosting all over his adorable little snoot.

Instead of complaining, he turns the plate around and shoves it in _Frisk’s_ face.

Chara cackles. They have all changed in some ways, remained the same in others – but it’s for the better. That is what Frisk believed when they were determined to give these two the lives they deserve, and every day they feel like they are proven right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was emotionally rough in places, so thank you for weathering through it with me. Feel free to yell at me in the comments; I'll definitely get around to yelling back.


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